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CUFYRIGHT DEPOSm 



The Dance 




BALLET PANTOMIME 
From pose by Mile. Louise La Gai 



'^THE DANCE "'' 

ITS PLACE IN ART AND LIFE 




K AAV*»£Ai BY 

TROY "and MARGARET WEST KINNEY 

("the kinneys") 



With a frontispiece in colour and one hundred and seventy-six line 

drawings and diagrams by the authors, and three hundred 

and thirty-Jour illustrations in black-and-white 

from photographs 




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NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

MCMXIV 



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^* 



COPYRIGHT, 191 4, BY 
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 



All rights reserved, including 

that of translation into 

foreign languages 



C 



April, 1 91 4 



APR-27-I9I4 



THE'PLIMPT(JN-PR23S 
NORWOOD-MA SS-U-8'A 



» 

©CI.A3 715 71 



To 

A FELLOW-ENTHUSIAST 

J. T. W. 

WITH APPRECIATION 



PREFACE 

The pleasant responsibility of writing about one of 
our two overwhelming enthusiasms was accepted by us 
only after consultation with friends in the dancing pro- 
fession. 

''A book of technical instruction is not the idea," we 
started to explain. 

"No," they concurred, "that would not be an under- 
taking for painters. Only an experienced master of 
dancing should write such a book, and he would not be 
likely to, because he would know that execution is 
taught only by personal criticism of a pupil's work." 

We hastened to specify that the proposal involved 
no more — and no less — than an effort to share our en- 
thusiasm with others. Appreciation of an ar. requires 
no faculties not included in the normal human equip- 
ment ; more than anything else it is a matter of knowing 
what to look for. When a layman comes to a painter 
asking what it is that people find so enjoyable in classic 
mural decoration, the answer is not difficult. A few 
hours in an art museum, with some direction of his at- 
tention to line as a vehicle of beauty, acquaint him with 
the idea of beauty as a self-sufficient object; and he goes 
on his way rejoicing in the possession of a lasting proc- 
ess of making happiness for himself. 

Great dancing, to us, always had been a gratification 
of the same senses that are addressed by decoration. 
The same suggestions, therefore, that convey the power 
to enjoy classic mural painting, would enable us to com- 



viii PREFACE 

municate our satisfaction in the dance. But the ques- 
tion arose, was our point of view on dancing in accord 
with its real intent, and that of its performers and com- 
posers ? 

Madame Cavallazi disposed of the doubt at one 
stroke. "The ballet,'' she said, "is mural decoration.'* 

Sanctioned by such authority, we have followed the 
lines above indicated, treating the dance from the stand- 
point of pure optical beauty. Its enjoyment, experi- 
ence proves, is distinctly sharpened by acquaintance 
with choreographic technique. One not fairly familiar 
with the resources of the art, though he be conscious 
that the dance before his eyes is progressing, like music, 
in conformity with an artistic argument, is confused by 
the speed and seeming intricacy of steps. As a result 
he loses the greater part of the beauty of the succession 
of pictures unfolded before him. Whereas the ability 
to grasp the theme of a composition, and then to follow 
its elaboration through a vocabulary of already familiar 
steps, is in effect to quicken the vision. Instead of be- 
ing harassed by a sensation of scrambling to keep up 
with the argument, the spectator finds himself with 
abundant time to luxuriate in every movement, every 
posture. And, like a connoisseur of any other art, he 
sees a thousand beauties unnoticed by the untrained. 

To the end of furnishing the needed acquaintance 
with the alphabet of the art, the book includes a chapter 
of explanation of the salient steps of the ballet. These 
steps, with superficial variations and additions, form 
the basis also of all natural or "character" dances that 
can lay claim to any consideration as interpretative art. 
It is convenient to learn the theories of them as accepted 
by the great ballet academies, since those institutions 



PREFACE ix 

alone have defined them clearly, and brought to perfec- 
tion the ideals for their execution. Incidentally the 
school of the ballet is made the subject of considerable 
attention. In the first place, after getting a grasp of 
its ideals and intent, any one will catch the sentiment of 
a folk-dance in a moment. Moreover, it is in itself an 
important institution. During its long history it has 
undergone several periods of retirement from public at- 
tention, the most recent beginning about sixty years ago. 
From this eclipse it has already returned to the delighted 
gaze of Europe; as always after its absences, so far 
evolved beyond the standards within the memory of liv- 
ing men that posterity seems to have been robbed of 
the chance of discovering anything further. The re- 
naissance is moving westward from St, Petersburg; 
London is wholly under its influence; America has felt 
a touch of it. 

American love of animated beauty and delight in skill 
predestine us to be a race of ardent enthusiasts over 
the dance. Among us, however, there are many who 
have never accepted it as an art worthy of serious at- 
tention. As a gentle answer to that point of view, a 
historical resume is included, wherein statesmen, phi- 
losophers and monarchs show the high respect in which 
the art has been held, save in occasional lapses, in all 
periods of civilised history. 

Direct practical instruction is furnished on the sub- 
ject of present-day ballroom dancing, to the extent of 
clear and exact directions for the performance of steps 
now fashionable in Europe and America. The chap- 
ter was prepared under the careful supervision of Mr. 
John Murray Anderson. 

Neither in word nor picture does the book contain 



X PREFACE 

any statement not based upon the authors' personal 
knowledge, or choreographic writings of unquestioned 
authority, or the word of dancers or ballet-masters of 
the utmost reliability. To these artists and to certain 
managers we are greatly indebted. Much of the mat- 
ter has never before been printed in English; a consid- 
erable portion of it has here its first publication in any 
language. The illustrations of dances of modern times 
are made from artists in the very front rank of their 
respective lines. If the new material so contributed to 
choreographic literature proves, according to the belief 
of dancers who have read the manuscript, to be of value 
to producers, the authors will experience the gratifica- 
tion that comes of having been of service. But their 
efforts will be more directly repaid if the influence of 
the book hastens by a day that insistence upon a high 
choreographic ideal in America, and that unification of 
dance-lovers which must exist in order that worthy pro- 
ductions may be reasonably insured of recognition in 
proportion to their quality. 

Finally, a word of thanks to those whose aid has made 
this book possible. Though busy, as successful people 
always are, they have given time and thought unspar- 
ingly to the effort, in co-operation with the authors, to 
make this a substantial addition to the layman's under- 
standing of the dancing art. 

T. K. and M. W. K. 
New York J November, 191 3. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Dancing of Ancient Egypt and Greece 3 

The dance a primitive emotional expression. Importance in Egyptian 
religious ritual. Biblical allusions. Its high place in Greek civ- 
ilisation. Origin attributed to the gods. Employed in observances 
religious, civic, and private. Practice decreed by Lycurgus for 
military discipline and cultivation of national stamina. A feature 
of Plato's "Ideal Republic.'' Ballet in drama. Interacting in- 
fluence between dance and sculpture. 

II. Dancing in Rome 22 

Simplicity of early Roman taste and manners enforced by poverty. 
Vulgarity with riches. Degeneration of dancing with other arts, 
under Empire. Acrobatics, obscenity. Ballet pantomime. Py- 
lades and Bathyllus. 

III. The Middle Ages and the Renaissance 29 

The Christian Church lifts dance from degradation. Ballet d'action 

in ritual of worship. A cause of disagreements between eccles- 
iastical dignitaries. The Seises of Seville Cathedral preservers 
of dance in religious service. Moralities, etc. Mechanical effects. 
Ambulatory ballets. 

Rebirth of polite society; the masque. Cardinal Riario. Cath- 
erine de Medici, direct influence toward modern ballet. Elizabeth 
of England. Richelieu, composer. Louis XIV, ballet performer, 
founder of national academy. 

Dawn of stars. Salle. Prevosf. Camargo. Neisf standards. 
Expression. New steps added to those derived from old dances: 
Gavotte, Minuet, Pavane, Saraband, Tordion, Bourree, Passe caille, 
Passepied, Chaconne, Volte, Allemande, Gaillarde, and Courante. 
Their formality ; illustrations. 

IV. A Glance at the Ballet's Technique 59 

Visual music: dance steps are notes, an enchainement is a phrase, 

a dance-composition is a song, the ballet is an orchestra. Ballet 
dancing, as such, not based on imitation of nature; a convention, 
analogous to ornamental decoration. Intent: perfect beauty of 
line and rhythm; abstract qualities exploited. Importance of 
pantomime unsettled. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

Ballet dancing can be seen intelligently only by aid of ac- 
quaintance with elemental steps. Fundamental positions of feet 
and hands. Gliding steps: chasse, echappe, coupe, etc. Batte- 
ments, grand, petit. Changement. Entrechat. Brise. Ballone. 
Enchainements. Pas de Bourree, pas de Basque. 

Turns and pirouettes, Rond de jambe. Fouette. Sur le cou- 
de-pied; en I'air. Renverse. En arabesque, etc. Optical illusions. 

Phrasing. Theme. Motive. 

'Standards of form. Exactness. Beneficial relaxation of for- 
mality; results of unguided emancipation. 

V. The Golden Age of Dancing loo 

Early eighteenth century finds ballet profiting by many favourable in- 
fluences. Royal patronage. Public enthusiasm and discernment. 
Great-minded artists in co-operation. Fortunate accidents. The 
Vestris, father and son. Noverre, " the Shakespeare of the 
dance." Boucher, designer of stage decoration. Gluck. Costum- 
ing. 

Rivalries of Camargo and Salle; Allard and Guimard. Coterie 
of great performers. French Revolution. 

Dance resumed with return of peace. An ambassador as im- 
presario. Public controversy and enthusiasm over Taglioni and 
Ellsler; opposites; none to replace them; singing supersedes dan- 
cing in opera. 

VI. Spanish Dancing 121 

Gaditanae in Roman literature. Spanish dancing resists Roman cor- 
ruption, Gothic brutality. Favouring influence of Moors. Attitude 
of the Church. Public taste and discrimination. 

Two schools. Flamenco (Gipsy origin) and Classic. The Gipsy. 
La Farruca, el Tango, el Garrotin; distinct character. Costume. 
Classic: Seguidillas family. Las Sevillanas; general character. 
The Fandango rarely seen. La Malaguena y el Torero. Las 
Malaguenas. The Bolero. Castanets. Los Panaderos. The Jota 
of Aragon, character, costume, etc. Other dances. 

VII. Italian Dances 156 

The Forlana of Venice: Harlequin, Columbine, Dr. Pantalone. Pan- 
tomime and tableaux. The Tarantella, character, costume. The 
Ciociara of Romagna. Italian fondness for pantomime. The Sal- 
tarello. La Siciliana, la Ruggera, la Trescona, etc, 

VIII. European FoLK-DANaNG in General 164 

Folk-dancing an expression of social conditions. Scotch nationalism. 
The Sword Dance; the Highland Fling; the Scotch Reel. Mo- 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

tives, basic steps. Reel of Tulloch. The Shean Treuse. Eng- 
land: Sailor's Hornpipe. Morris Dances. Recent revival of old 
dances, Ireland: Jig, Reel and Hornpipe. Intent, steps, devices 
of tempo. Irish festivals; Gaelic League. Sweden: recent revival 
of old dances. The Skraldt; Kadriljs. The Vafva Vadna; the 
Daldans. Holland: the Matelot. France: la Bourree, la Faran- 
dole. Specimen freak dances: the Perchtentanz, the Bacchii-ber. 
The Schuhplatteltanz of Bavaria. Balkan region: the Kolo. De- 
generation of dancing in Greece. Russia: Cossack Dance, Court 
Dance. Slavonic character and steps: the Czardas; the Mazurka; 
the Szolo; the Obertass. Temperament. 

IX. Oriental Dancing 196 

Symbolism, decoration, pantomime, story in the dance. Sensational 
mismanagement in Occidental countries. Mimetic dancing a sub- 
stitute for newspapers. The Dance of Greeting; welcome, bless- 
ings, etc. Structure of Arabic choreography. Handkerchief 
Dance of Cafes; candour. Flour Dance. Popular narrative 
dances. Fantasia of Bedoui; religious outbreaks. Dancing for 
tourists; the Almees. Dance, Awakening of the Soul. Animate 
sculpture. Oriental technique. Sword Dance of Turkey. Der- 
vishes. Lezginka of the Caucasus. Ruth St. Denis; Nautch; 
Spirit of Incense; the Temple; the Five Senses. Antiquity; 
carvings in India and Java. Hula-Hula of Hawaii. Priestesses 
trained for religious dancing. Japan: dancing for all occasions. 
Abstractness of symbols. Dances of war. 

X. The Ballet in its Dark Age 228 

Sterilisation of ballet by struggle for technical virtuosity. Ballet in 
opera. Vulgarisms and counterfeits: the Can-Can; contortion; 
high kicking ; skirt-dancing ; insipid prettiness. A revival of good 
work; falsifications of it. Loie Fuller, silk scarf, electric lights. 
Serpentine and Fire dances. Imitators. World's Fair of 1893; 
stigma on Oriental dancing. One class of managers. Obscure 
preparation of a new force. 

XI. The Romantic Revolution 241 

Isadora Duncan, complete idealist. Her metier. Russia: dissatisfac- 
tion with ballet. Duncan in St. Petersburg. Secession from Im^ 
perial Academy. The romantic idea; choreography, music, paint- 
ing united in a radical new school. The Russian ballet. Paris, 
United States, England. Influence and reception. Management 

in America. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XII. The Russian Academy and Its Workings 257 

Selection of pupils. Consecration to work. Contract, obligations 
after graduation. Advantages to the government. General edu- 
cation. Technical training: Italian ballet technique, music, draw- 
ing, acting, pantomime, plastic gymnastics, fencing. Care of health. 
Age of Academy. Russian ballet as distinguished from French- 
Italian; law-governed freedom. Addition to emotional scope. 
Recent ballet pantomimes. 

XIII. Social Dancing of To-day 269 

Revived interest in dancing. New forms of dance suited to the pres- 
ent freedom of individual expression. Rapid changes. The Tur- 
key Trot. New names for slightly altered dances already familiar. 
The Argentine Tango; significance. Detailed instruction for per- 
formance of the One-Step, the Boston, the Hesitation Walts, the 
Tango, the Brazilian Maxixe. Tendencies toward revival of old 
court dances. 

XIV. A Layman's Estimate of Conditions 304 

Re-establishment of great dancing in the United States; will it take 
and keep a high plane? Loose standards of judgment. Depend- 
ence upon commercial management. Managers; their varied in- 
Huences. Need of endowed ballet and academy. DifUculties of 
ballet organisation in the United States. Insufficient training of 
American ballet dancers. Ballet in operas; unimportance under 
old traditions, changing standards. Metropolitan and Russian bal- 
let; ground gained and partly lost. Russians under other auspices. 
Ballet school; impositions upon it. Need of academy with dan- 
cing as primary purpose. General organisation; departures from 
scheme of Russian Academy ^ 

Bibliography 323 

Index .,,,,,,♦ 327 



J 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Ballet Pantomime. From Pose by Mile. Louise La Gat . Frontispiece V^ 

Tanagra Figure Page 3 

Greek Vase Decoration " 3 

Tanagra Figure " 3 

Tanagra Figures Facing Page 4 ^^' 

Greek Ceramics " " 5 

Greek Vase Decoration Page 8 

Greek Comedy Dancing " 9 

Statuettes " 10 

Tanagra {A) — Myrina (B) — Tanagra (C). 

Greek Relief Decorations Facing Page 12 i " 

Greek Ceramic Decorations " " 13 / 

Statuettes Page 13 

Myrina {A) — Tanagra (B) — Myrina (C) 

Dance of Nymphs *' 17 

Tanagra Figures Facing Page 20 '<^ 

Greek Comedy Dancing Page 21 

Dance of Peasants " 36 

Ballet of the Four Parts of the World: Entrance of 

the Grand Khan ** 41 

A Fourteenth Century Ball ** 46 

Seventeenth Century Court Dances Facing Page 48 t^'' 

The Tordion (i, 2) — The Pavane (3, 4, 5). 

Louis XIV and A Courtier in the Ballet of Night . Page 50 

Seventeenth Century Court Dances Facing Page 54 ^ 

The Saraband (i) — The Allemand (3) — The Minuet (2, 4, 

5, 6, 7). 

The Gavotte " " 55 

Mme. Adeline Gen£e and M. Alexander Volinine ... " " 64 (,r 

Ballet Robert le Diable (i) — Butterfly Dance (2) — Pierrot 

and Columbine (3). 
Mme. Gen:6e in Historical Re-Creations and M. Volin- 
ine " " es^j' 

Salle {i) — The Waltz (2) — Camargo {i)—Guimard (4). 

Fundamental Positions of the Feet Page 66 



XVI 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Facing Page 



tt ti 



Positions of the Arms Page 

"Glissade" 

"Assemble" 

"Assemble" and Changement {Floor Plan Diagram) . . . 

"Jet£" 

"Jet£" to the Side 

"Battements" 

Steps of the "Battement" Type 

"Fouette" 

Start of A "Fouette Pirouette" 

"FouETTE Pirouette" (Continued) 

Optional Finish of a "Fouette Pirouette" 

The "Pirouette Sur le Cou-de-Pied" 

Various "Pirouettes" 

Beginning of the "Renverse" 

The "Renvers^;" {Concluded) 

Two Forms of "Attitude" 

Mechanism of Broad Jump 

Classic Ballet Positions 

Typical moments in a renverse {i, 2, 5, 4, 5,) — Starting a 
developpe {6) — Progress of a rond de jambe (7, 8, g). 

Classic Ballet Positions {Continued) 

Rond de jambe {10) — Jete tour (ii) — Pas de bourree {12) — 
Preparation for a pirouette {is) — Position sur la pointe 
{14) — A fouette toury inward {14) — J cabriole a derriere 
{16) — Descent from an entrechat {if) — An arabesque {18). 

"La Malaguena y el Torero" 

Typical "Flamenco" Poses 

"Flamenco" Poses 

"Las Sevillanas" 

"El Bolero" 

Typical moment in first copla (/) — Finish of a phrase {2). 

"La Jota Aragonesa" 

Type of movement (j) — Finish of a turn {2) — A pirouette 
{3) — Kneeling position {4) — Woman's sitting position (5). 

Two Groups in "Las Sevillanas" Page 

Groups in "La Malaguena y el Torero" " 

Miscellaneous Spanish Notes 

Two Groups in "Los Panaderos" 

Part of the "Jota" of Aragon 

"La Tarantella" Facing Page 

Opening of the dance {i) — A poor collection {2) — They 
gamble for it {la Morra) (j) — She wins {4) — He wins (5). 



« tt 



67 
68 
69 
69 
70 

71 

72 

74 
75 
76 

77 
78 
79 
80 
82 
83 
84 
86 



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122 


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Page 


129 




ft 


133 
137 




Facing Page 


138 


U 



139 



140 

14s 
147 
149 

152 

156 



ILLUSTRATIONS xvii 

"La Tarantella" Facing Page 157 ^'' 

An arabesque (/) — Finish of a phrase {2) — Typical mo- 
ment (j) — Finish of a phrase {4). 

"La Tarantella" " " 158 ^ 

Opening of the dance (/) — A turn hack-to-hack (2) — A 
pause after rapid foot-work (5) — Characteristic finishes of 
phrases (^, 5). 
"La Forlana" . " " 159 '^ 

Doctor Pantalone patronized (i) — Defied (2) — Pleads (j) 

— Accepts the inevitable {4) — Is ridiculed (j). 

"La Ciociara" " " 160 

Opening promenade (/, 2) — End of promenade (5) — He 
has "made eyes" at a spectator {4) — Opening of dance 
{second movement) (5). 

"La Ciociara" " " 161 / 

Rustic affection (i) — Again caught in perfidy (2) — Tries 
to make amends (j) — Without success {4) — Removed from 
temptation (5). 

The Scotch Sword Dance " " 164 t^ 

A step over the swords (/, 2) — A jump over the swords (j) 

— Steps between the swords (4, 5). 

The "Scotch Reel" " " 165 

Use of the Battement (/) — A pirouette (2) — Characteristic 

style (j, 4) —A turn (5). 
The "Shean Treuse" " " 168 ^ 

The promenade (7, 2) — The thematic step (j) — Finish of 

a phrase {4). 
The "Sailor's Hornpipe" " ** 169 "■' 

Look-out (j) — Hoisting sail (2) — Hauling in rope (5) — 

Rowing (4) — Type of step (5) — Type of step (6) — Hoist- 
ing sail (7). 

Irish Dances " " 174 .^ 

The Jig (7, 5, 4) — The Hornpipe (2, 5) — The Reel (6, 7, 
8). 

A "Four-Hand Reel" " « 175 <y 

Preparation for woman's turn under arms (7) — Character- 
istic style (2) — A turning group figure (5). 
The "Irish Jig" and Portrait of Patrick J. Long ... " " 178 ; 

From Various Folk-Dances Page 185 

The "Schuhplatteltanz" Facing Page 186 >^ 

A swing (7) — A turn (2) — A turn, man passing under 
woman s arms (j) — A swing, back-to-hack {4) — The 
Mirror (5). 



xviii ILLUSTRATIONS 

The "Schuhplatteltanz" of Bavaria Facing Page 187 

Preparing a turn (/) — A lift (2) — Starting woman* s series 
of turns (j) — Start of woman's turns {4) — Man fans her 
along with hands (5) — Finish of dance {6). 

The "Kolo" of Servia " *' 190 

Start of a turn (/) — Progress of a turn {2) — A bridge of 
arms (j) — An emphasis {4) — A lift (5). 

Poses from Slavonic Dances " " 191 

Coquetry (/) — Petulance (2) — Indifference (j) — Em- 
phasis {4) — Jocular defiance (5"). 

Poses from Slavonic Dances " " 192 

Negation (/) — Fear (2) — Supplication (j) — An empha- 
sis {4). 

Poses from Slavonic Dances " " 193 

Characteristic gesture (/) — Characteristic step {2) — Char- 
acteristic gesture (j) — Characteristic step (4) — SamCy an- 
other view (5) — Ecstasy (6) — The claim of beauty (7). 

Arabian "Dance of Greeting" " " 196 

Called upon to dance, she reveals herself (i) — Salutation {2) 

— Profile view of same (5), 

Arabian "Dance of Greeting" (Continued) ** " 197 

"For you I will dance" (4) — "From here you will put away 
care" (5, 8) — "Here you may sleep" {6) — "Here am I" 

(7). 
Arabian "Dance of Greeting" {Continued) " " 198 

"And should you go afar" (p) — "May you enjoy Allah's 

blessing of rain" {10) — "And the earth's fullness" (ii). 
Arabian "Dance of Greeting" (Continued) " " 199 

"May winds refresh you" (12) — "Wherever you go" (if) 

— "Here is your house" (14) — "Here is peace" (15) — 
"And your slave" (16). 

Arabian "Dance of Mourning" " " 200 

The body approaches (i) — The body passes (2) — "/ hold 

my sorrow to myself" (3). 
Arabian "Dance of Mourning" (Continued) " " 201 

"He has gone out of the house and up to Heaven" (4) — 

"Farewell" (5). 
Arabian "Dance of Mourning" (Continued) " " 202 

"He slept in my arms" (6) — " The house is empty" (7) — 

"Woe is in my heart" (8). 

Arab Slave Girl's Dance " " 

"Handkerchief Dance" of the Cafes " " 

The handkerchiefs symbolizing the lovers are animated with 

the breath of life, but kept dissociated (i) — Brought into 

semi-association (2) — Separated and dropped (j). 



ILLUSTRATIONS xix 

"Handkerchief Dance" {Continued) Facing Page 207 (--^ 

She can dance about, between or away from them, indiffer- 
ently {4) — Made into panniers, the panniers express her 

willingness to receive; turned inside out, her willingness to 

give (5) — One of the two handkerchiefs is thrown to the se- 
lected lover {6). 
"Dance of the Soul's Journey" " " 210 

The soulless body (/) — Asks for the light of life (2) — Vision 

dawns (j) — Inexpert in life, she walks gropingly {4). 
"Dance of the Soul's Journey" (Continued) " " 211 ' 

She draws aside the veil of the future (5) — Life is seen full 

and plenteous ((5). 
"Dance of the Soul's Journey" {Continued) " " 212 ^ 

But old age will come (7) — Grief will visit {8) — She shall 

walk with her nose close to the camel's foot (p). ^ 

"Dance of the Soul's Journey" {Continued) " " 213 

Yet now, from the crown of her head {10) — To the soles of her 

feet she is perfect {ii) . 

Miscellaneous Oriental Notes Page 215 

"Dance of the Soul's Journey" {Continued) Facing Page 216 ^s^ 

Rejoices in the perfect body {12) — And in all good things 

{ij) — Runs from the scene {14). 
Characteristic Pantomime in Dancing of Modern 

Egypt " " 217 v>^ 

Express sorrow {i, 3) — Represents a prayer directed down- 
ward and back: i.e., to spirits of evil {2). 
"Dance of the Falcon" (Egyptian) " " 218 .. 

Shock as the bird strikes his quarry (i) — Rejoicing as he 

overcomes it (2). 

Dancing Girls of Algiers " " 219 iX 

Reliefs on Tower of the Temple of Madura (India) . Page 219 

Persian Dance. Princess Chirinski-Chichmatoff . . . Facing Page 220 
Oriental Poses " " 221 

Votive offering (5 poses) — Decorative motives {3 poses) — 

Disclosure of person {i pose). 

Javanese Dancer, Modern " " 222 ^' 

Relief Carvings, Temple of Borobodul, Java " " 223 ^^,^ 

Dance of Greeting {i) — Dance of Worship {2) — An Arrow 

Dance (5). 

"Nautch Dance" " " 226 , 

Japanese Dance " " 227 

Isadora Duncan " " 242V 

Greek Interpretative Dance " " 243 '^'' 

Impressions of Isadora Duncan Page 244 



XX 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Mlle. Lopoukowa, Mlle. Pavlowa, Mlle. Nijinska, with 
Sr. E. Ceccetti 

Mlle. Lydia Kyasht and M. Lytazkin 

"Arabesque" 

"Arrow Dance" 

Bacchanal 

Mlle. Lydia Lopoukowa 

Mlle. Pavlowa in a Bacchanal 

Mlle. Lopoukowa, in Boudoir 

Mlle. Lopoukowa, Interpretative Dance 

Mlle. Lopoukowa, In "Le Lac Des Cygnes" 

M. Alexander Volinine 

Representative Russian Ballet Poses and Groups . . 

Representative Russian Ballet Poses and Groups . . 

The "Waltz Minuet" 

Characteristic style (/) — Fariation, position of hands {2) 
— Preparation for a turn (j) — The Mirror figure (4). 

The "Gavotte" Showing Present Tendencies 

Characteristic style (j) — Characteristic style {2) — A curtsy 
(j) — Arabesque to finish a phrase {4). 

Social Dancing; Position of Feet {Diagram) 

The One-Step: The Turn {Diagram) 

The One-Step: Grape-Vine {Diagram) 

The One-Step: Eight {Diagram) 

The One-Step: Square {Diagram) 

The One-Step: A Figure Occupying Three Measures 
{Diagram) 

The One-Step: 

The One-Step: 



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247 

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ing Page 


272 . 



The Murray Anderson Turn {Diagram) 
A Cross-Over {Diagram) 

Development of an Arch "A La Pirouette" 

Cross to right (/) — Cross to left {2) — Start of turn (5). 

The One-Step 

The "Kitchen Sink" (/) —Position of couple {2). 

The "Brazilian Maxixe" 

Characteristic position of advanced foot (5). 

The "Boston," Essential Step {Diagram) 

The Waltz 

J position of the couple in the Waltz-Minuet {i) — Correct 
position of man's hand on woman's hack {2) — A position 
also assumed in the One-step Eight {3) — A Dip {4). 

The Waltz 

Correct position of couple (/) — Of feet, in short steps {2) — 
Of feet, in Dip (5) — Another view of the Dip {4). 

The Boston, Step Backward {Diagram) 

The Boston, The Dip {Diagram) 



273 



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« 

« 


276 
277 
278 
279 
279 


*t 


280 


f( 


281 


« 


282 


Facing Page 


282 


(t <( 


283 


*t tt 


283 


Page 
Facing Page 


284 
284 



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285 



285 
286 



ILLUSTRATIONS xxi 

The Boston, The Dip Simplified (Diagram) Page 287 

The Boston, An Embellishment (Diagram) " 288 

The Boston, An Embellishment (Diagram) " 288 

The Boston, Same, with Turns (Diagram) " 289 

The "Hesitation Waltz," Theme (Diagram) " 289 

The "Hesitation Waltz" Variation on Theme (Dia- 
gram) ** 290 

The "Tango" Facing Page 290 -^ 

Characteristic style (/, 2, 4) — Woman circles man (3). 

The "Tango" " " 291 ^ 

Characteristic style. 
The "Hesitation Waltz," the "Lyon Chasse," (Diagram). Page 291 

The "Tango" Facing Page 294 K 

The "Tango" " " 295 1/ 

The reverse (i) — The regular Tango walking step (2) — 
Style of movement (j) — Position of hands sometimes as- 
sumed to emphasize the end of a phrase (4). 

The "Tango," The "Corte" (Diagram) Page 295 

The "Tango," The Scissors (Diagram) " 295 

The "Tango," The Scissors Variation (Diagram) .... " 296 

The "Tango," The Media Luna (Diagram) " 296 

The "Tango" Facing Page 296 • 

The corte (i) — Characteristic style (2) — A variation (3) 

— Start of a turn (4). / 

A "Tango" Step " " 297 </ 

Mans foot displaces woman s (i) — Woman's foot displaces 
mans (2) — Each displaces the other s foot (j). 

The "Tango," The Eight (Diagram) Page 297 

The "Tango," A Waltz Turn (Diagram) " 297 

The "Tango," An Easy Step (Diagram) " 298 

A North American Figure in the "Tango" Facing Page 298 / 

Preparation (i) — After the twist (2) — Finishing with a 
Dip (3). 
The "Tango," Executed to the Rear (Diagram) .... Page 299 

The "Tango," A North American Figure (Diagram) . . " 299 

The "Brazilian Maxixe," First Figure (Diagram) ... "300 

The "Brazilian Maxixe," Third Figure (Diagram) ... " 301 

The "Brazilian Maxixe" Facing Page 302 i,x 

Characteristic style (i) — A dip (2) — Variations (5, 4). 

The "Brazilian Maxixe" " " 303 <-^ 

Preparation for a turn (i) — Finish of a turn (2) — Char- 
acteristic style (3) — A dip (4). 



THE DANCE 





The Dance 



CHAPTER I 

THE DANCING OF ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 

BEFORE logic, man knew emotion; before creed, 
ritual. With leap and mad gesture the savage 
mimics his triumph, to the accompaniment of 
crude saltation performed by a hero-worshipping tribe. 
Not by argument is the coming storm propitiated, but 
by a unified expression of tribal humility. To the 
rhythm of beaten drums, the tribe, as one, performs the 
genuflexions and prostrations that denote supplication 
and fear. 

So on through the gamut of simple emotions — love 
and hate, fealty and jealousy, desire and achievement — 
primitive man expresses his mood in terms of the dance. 
History shows that dancing persists on a plane with 
words, paint and music as a means of expression, how- 
ever far a race may advance along the road of evolu- 
tion; and that the few exceptions to this rule are to be 
found among peoples who have allowed a Frankenstein 

3 



4 THE DANCE 

of logic to suppress, for a time, their naturalness of 
spirit. 

Egyptian carvings of six thousand years ago record 
the use of the dance in religious ritual; and abundant 
evidence attests the importance in which it was held at 
all times through the period of Egypt's power. In 
lines as stately as the columns of a temple, sculptors have 
traced choreography's majestic poses, its orchestral repe- 
titions and variations. As a dance may be, the religious 
dances of Egypt were a translation and an equivalent 
of the spirit of the Pharaohs' monumental architecture ; 
that they were no less imposing than those temples we 
cannot avoid believing. 

*"^ Plato, deeply impressed by these hierarchical ballets, 
finds that their evolutions symbolised the harmonious 
movements of the stars. Modern deduction carries the 
astronomical theme still further : the central altar is be- 
lieved to have represented the sun; the choral move- 
ments around it, the movements of the celestial bodies. 
Apis, the sacred black bull, was honoured in life by 
dances of adoration, in death by ballets of mourning. 

Either dancing was attributed to the divinities (ac- 
cording to a Christian saint of later centuries, it is the 
practice of angels) or some of the divinities were repre- 
sented by dancers in the religious ballets. A carving in 
the Metropolitan Museum of New York shows Anubis 
and Horus kneeling, their arms completing a pose that 
is seen to this day in the dances of Spain. 

Important as was the dancing of Egypt as the root 
from which grows the choreography of all the Occident 
— and of India too, for anything known to the contrary 
— the carvings reveal little of its philosophy or symbol- 
ism. But the history of other peoples at once demon- 










Courtesy oj The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 

Tanagra Figures 



To face page 4 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 5 

strates its force as example, at least, if not as teacher of 
actual technique. The Hebrews of very early days gave 
dancing a high place in the ceremony of worship. 
Moses, after the crossing of the Red Sea, bade the chil- 
dren of Israel dance. David danced before the Ark of 
the Covenant. 

Numerous Biblical allusions show that dancing was 
held in high respect among early leaders of thought. 
"Praise the Lord . . . praise Him with timbrel and the 
dance,'' is commanded. With dancing the Maccabees 
celebrated that supremely solemn event, the restoration 
of the Temple. To honour the slayer of Goliath, the 
women came out from all the cities of Israel, "singing 
and dancing . . . with tabrets, with joy and with in- 
struments of musick." Relative to the capture of wives 
the sons of Benjamin were told: ". . . if the daugh- 
ters of Shiloh come out to dance in dances, then come 
ye out of the vineyards, and catch you every man his 
wife . . . and the children of Benjamin did so, and 
took them wives, according to their number, of them 
that danced, whom they caughf (Judges 21 :2i and 2^), 
"Thou shalt again be adorned with thy tabrets, and 
shalt go forth in the dances of them that make merry'' 
(Jeremiah 31:4). "Then shall the virgin rejoice in 
the dance" (Jeremiah 31:13). "And David danced 
before the Lord with all his might" (2 Samuel 6:14). 
In the solemn chapter of Matthew narrating the be- 
heading of John the Baptist we read: "But when Her- 
od's birthday was kept, the daughter of Herodias danced 
before them, and pleased Herod. Whereupon he 
promised with an oath to give her whatever she would 
ask." 

Perhaps with an idea of forestalling discussion of 



6 THE DANCE 

the art's antiquity, one of the early writers ehminates 
argument by a simple stroke of the pen. ^'The stars 
conform to laws of co-ordinated movement. 'Co-ordi- 
nated movement' is the definition of dancing, which 
therefore is older than humanity." Taking this at its 
face value, human institutions are thrown together into 
one period, in which differences of a thousand years are 
as nothing. 

In turning to Greece, years need lend no aid to make 
the subject attractive. In that little world of thought 
we find choreography luxuriant, perhaps, as it never has 
been since ; protected by priesthood and state, practised 
by rich and poor, philosopher and buffoon. Great 
mimetic ballets memorialised great events ; simple rustic 
dances celebrated the gathering of the crops and the 
coming of the fliowers. Priestesses performed the 
sacred numbers, the origins of which tradition attrib- 
uted to Olympian gods; eccentric comedy teams enliv- 
ened the streets of Athens; gilded youth held dancing 
an elegant accomplishment. Philosophers taught it to 
pupils for its effect on body and mind; it was a means 
of giving soldiers carriage, agility and health, and cul- 
tivating esprit de corps. To the development of dancing 
were turned the Greek ideals of beauty, which in their 
turn undoubtedly received a mighty and constant uplift 
from the beauty of harmonised movements of healthy 
bodies. Technique has evolved new things since the 
days of classic Greece ; scenery, music and costume have 
created effects undreamed of in the early times. But 
notwithstanding the lack of incidental factors — and one 
questions if any such lack were not cancelled by the 
gain through simplicity — the wide-spread practice of 
good dancing, the greatness and frequency of munici- 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 7 

pal ballets, the variety of emotional and aesthetic mo- 
tives that dancing was made to express, all combine to 
give Greece a rank never surpassed as a dancing nation.' 
^The man-made attributes of man's gods are a synopsis 
of man's important thoughts. Cybele, mother of the 
gods and friend of mankind, taught dancing to the cory- 
bantes as a fitting gift to be passed along to her mortal 
foster-children. Apollo, speaking through the mouths 
of priestesses, dictated further choreographic laws. 
Orpheus journeyed to Egypt to study its dances, that 
he might add to the scope of the Hellenic steps and 
movements. One of the nine muses was devoted to the 
fostering of this particular art. All of which shows a 
profound belief in the Greek mind that dancing was 
worthy of a great deal of divine attention. Certainly 
no subsequent civilisation has been so well qualified to 
judge the importance of dancing, , for none has experi- 
mented so completely in the effect of rhythmic exercise 
on the body and mind of a nation. 

Classic sculpture no more than suggests the impor- 
tance of dancing in Greek life. An assemblage of a few 
Greek thinkers' observations on the subject furnishes 
an idea of the value they gave it as a factor in education. 
Plato, for instance, specifies it among the necessities for 
the ideal republic, "for the acquisition of noble, har- 
monious, and graceful attitudes." Socrates urged it 
upon his pupils. Physicians of the time of Aristophanes 
prescribed its rhythmic exercise for many ailments. 
Lycurgus gave it an important place in the training 
of youth, military and otherwise. Among the special 
dances whose teaching he decreed, was one, the Hormos, 
that was traditionally performed without clothing. 
Plutarch tells of a protest against the nudity of the 



8 THE DANCE 

women. The Law-giver of Athens replied: "I wish 
them [the women] to perform the same exercises as 
men, that they may equal men in strength, health, vir- 
tue and generosity of soul, and that they may learn to 
despise the opinion of the vulgar/' 

Of great men's dancing in public there are instances. 




From a Fourth Century Vase. 
In the Louvre. 

in abundance. The very method of choosing the lead- 
ers of great civic choreographic spectacles insured the 
association of people of consequence, for these leaders 
were always selected from the highest rank of citizens. 
Epaminondas, Antiochus, and Ptolemseus are variously 
mentioned for their skill in dancing, as well as their 
prominence in national affairs. Sophocles danced 
around the trophies of the battle of Salamis. ^schylus 
and Aristophanes danced in various performances of 
their own plays. And Socrates, one of the very fathers 
of human reasoning, danced among friends after din- 
ner. Aristides danced at a banquet given by Dionysius 
of Syracuse. Anacreon, in his odes, declares that he 
is always ready to dance. 

Professional dancers enjoyed high prestige. Philip 
of Macedon had one as a wife ; the mother of Nicomedes, 
king of Bithynia, was a dancer. Aristodemus, a famous 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 



dancer of Athens, at one time was sent to the court of 
PhiHp of Macedon as ambassador.. 

This chapter must not be understood as trying to rep- 
resent that Athenian civil Hfe was given over to an 
endless round of choreographic celebration ; nor have the 
later chapters concerning the courts of the Louis any 
intent to picture a set of beings whose minds were de- 
voted to dancing to the exclusion of all else. What is 
intended, however, is to call attention to an important 
omission in the writings of the general historian, who 
never has given dancing its due proportion of consid- 
eration as a force in those and other high civilisations. 
Literature and the graphic arts followed the coming of 
civilisation, and are among its results; they have been 
analysed with all degrees of profundity. The dance is, 
undoubtedly, among the causes of Greek vigour of mind 






Greek Comedy DANaNG. 

and body ; but it is of far less concern to the average his- 
torical writer than any disputed date. The microsco- 
pist charting the pores of the skin knows nothing of the 
beauty of the figure. And the grammarian's myopic 
search for eccentricities of verb-forms atrophies his 
ability to perceive the qualities of literature, until finally 
he will try to convince his listeners that literary quality 
is, after all, a subject for the attention of smaller minds. 
Greek philosophy, mathematics, political and military 



10 



THE DANCE 



science are part of the structure of Occidental society — 
a good and useful part. Had the importance of the 
dance been appreciated — had proper authority recog- 
nised its inherent part in the Greek social organism 
— who can say how much dulness, ugliness and sickli- 
ness of body and spirit the world might have escaped? 






Statuettes. 
From (A) Tanagra; (B) Myrina— now in the Louvre; (C) Tanagra 

(disputed). 

Folk-dancing has been introduced into the public schools 
of certain cities; a movement too new to be judged. 
Let it be neither praised nor censured until results have 
had time to assert themselves. If at the end of ten 
years the children who have danced their quota of min- 
utes per day do not excel in freedom from nervous ab- 
normalities, the children who have not danced; if they 
fail to manifest a better co-ordination of mind and body, 
and a superior power of receiving and acting upon sug- 
gestion — then let public school dancing be abolished as 
of no value beyond amusement and exercise. 

Of recent years a good deal of ingenuity has gone into 
study of the dances of classic Greece, with view to 
their re-creation. From paintings on vases, bas-reliefs 
and the Tanagra statuettes has been gathered a general 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE ii 

idea of the character of Greek movement. The results 
have been pleasing, and in Miss Duncan's case radical, 
as an influence on contemporary choreographic art. But, 
beautiful and descriptive as they are, the plastic repre- 
sentations are of scattered poses from dances not as a 
rule identified. If, therefore, present-day re-creations 
often fail to show the flights of cumulative interest com- 
mon in modern ballet, Spanish and Slavonic work, the 
shortcoming is due at least in part to the lack of ex- 
plicit records of sequences of step, movement and pan- 
tomimic symbol. For it is impossible to believe that the 
dance composers of the age of Pericles did not equal 
their successors, even as their contemporaries in the 
fields of sculpture, architecture and poetry left work 
never yet excelled. 

, Of the names and motives of dances the record seems 
to be pretty complete. Sacred, military and profane 
are the general categories into which the very numer- 
ous Greek dances divide themselves. The sacred group 
falls into four classes: the Emmeleia, the Hyporchema, 
the Gymnopcedia, and the Endymatia, Of these the two 
latter seem to have been coloured by sentiments more or 
less apart from the purely religious. 

Of the Emmeleia, Plato records that some had the 
character of gentleness, gravity and nobility suitable to 
the sentiments by which a mortal should be permeated 
when he invokes the gods. Others were of heroic or 
tragic aspect, emphasising majesty and strength. A 
characteristic of this group was its performance without 
accompaniment of chorus or voice. The origin of the 
group is attributed to Orpheus, as a fruit of his mem- 
ories of Colchis and Sais. 

The Hyporchema, equally religious, were distin- 



12 THE DANCE 

guished by their use of choral accompaniment. In some 
cases it might be more accurate to say that the dances 
were an accompaniment to recited poetry; for in very 
early times the dances seem to have been employed to 
personify, or materialise, the abstractions of poetic met- 
aphor. Both men and women engaged in dances of this 
group, and its plane was of lofty dignity. In it were 
the oldest dances of Greece, besides some composed by 
the poet Pindar. 

The Gymnopcedia were more or less dedicated to the 
worship of Apollo, and were especially cultivated in 
Arcadia. As the name implies, the performers were 
nude — youths wearing chaplets of palm. A material 
character seems to have marked this group : Athenaeus 
finds in it points of identity with the Anapale, which is 
known to have been a pantomimic representation of com- 
bat. 

The Endymatia crossed the border-line between the 
sacred and profane. They were brightly costumed 
dances, and in demand for general entertainment. In 
connection with this group we find the first allusion to 
the highly modern institution of dancers' "private en- 
gagements''— professionals aiding in the entertainment 
of dinner-parties. The Greek and Roman custom of 
seeing dancers instead of listening to after-dinner 
speeches is too well known to justify more than a men- 
tion. 

These four groups are the fundamentals from which 
numberless other dances were derived, to be variously 
dedicated to gods, public events, abstract qualities, crops, 
and fighting. If no particular occasion offered, people 
would dance for the good reason that they felt like it, 
as Neapolitans dance the Tarantella to-day. To the 









Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 

Greek Relief Decorations 



To face page 12 




Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 

Greek Ceramic Decorations 



To face page I J 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 



13 



glory of Bacchus were the Dionysia; the Iambic was 
sacred to Mars, the Caryatis, a dance symboHsing inno- 
cence, and danced nude, to Diana. Hercules, Theseus, 
the daughters of Jupiter, Castor and Pollux were so 
honoured — each dance having its special identification of 
movement, meaning or costume. 

Semirelated to the religious group were the dances 






Statuettes. 
From (A) Myrina; (B) Tanagra; (C) Myrina. 

of mourning. Unlike certain modern dances of the 
same intent, these are not recorded as having been 
primarily an individual's pantomimic dance representing 
qualities of the deceased, or illustrating his relations 
during life with friends and family ; although there was 
a time in which the cortege was headed by an individual 
dressed in the clothes of the deceased, imitating his vir- 
tues and sometimes also his failings. Regularly, how- 
ever, the dancing was strictly ritualistic, forming a 
solemn decorative concomitant of the vocal and instru- 
mental music. (At what point in his evolution did the 
Occidental determine that his ritualistic expressions 
should be directed almost exclusively to the ear?) A 
corps of fifteen girls danced before the funeral car, which 
was surrounded by a band of youths. Naturally the 



14 THE DANCE 

brilliancy of the function was more or less proportionate 
to the station and estate of the departed. 

j On dances of war the Greeks relied as an important 
element in the soldier's training. In their pantomime 
the veteran lived over the moments of combat, while his 
children and even his wife caught anew the spirit of 
Hellenic arms. 

Plutarch wrote: "The military dance was an inde- 
finable stimulus which inflamed courage and gave 
strength to persevere in the paths of honour and valour." 
It is still known that a body of men moving in step feel 
fatigue distinctly less than when walking out of step. 
One of the things learned by the long-distance runner, 
the wood-cutter, or any other performer of continued 
work, is the importance of establishing as quickly as 
possible a regular rhythmic relation between the sepa- 
rate parts of a complete movement, including the intake 
and expulsion of breath among those parts. Such a 
rhythm once established, movement succeeds movement 
with something like momentum; the several steps, or 
blows of the axe, do not each require a separate effort 
of the will. Something of this was Plutarch's "indefin- 
able stimulus." 

Apart from efficiency of the individual, experience 
has shown that a command moving "in time" is unified 
in the fullest sense, with each soldier more or less per- 
fectly proof against any impulse at variance with the 
esprit de corps. To weld a number of men ever more 
closely into the condition of a military unit is one of the 
purposes of drill. Drill is in great part a matter of 
keeping in step. The Greeks carried to a high pitch 
the unification of a military body in respect to all the 
movements of attack and defence. History repeatedly 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 15 

records the demoralisation of the enemy, carried by the 
assaults of the perfectly organised Greek fighting bod- 
ies. But undoubtedly an important value of the study 
for perfection of corps unity was the disciplinary effect 
on the Greek soldier himself. 

As a means toward such perfection, Greek law pre- 
scribed dancing for the soldier. An obvious benefit 
from his practice of the art was the advantage due to 
mere muscular exercise; and that in itself is no small 
thing when the dance is performed in full armour, as ,the 
Greek soldier performed it. 

Authorities classify the military dances as Pyrrhic 
and Memphitic; but the division seems hardly essential, 
since the meagre technical descriptions draw no distinct 
line between the two groups. In both, performers 
carried sword or spear and shield. The movements 
brought in the manoeuvres of individual combat — cutting 
and thrusting, parrying, dodging and stooping. That 
they might be carried to a degree of realism is indicated 
in a description by Xenophon. At the end of a mimic 
combat between two Thracians, at the conclusion of 
which the victor sang a song of victory and possessed 
himself of the vanquished man's weapons, the specta- 
tors cried out with emotion, believing that the fallen 
man was killed. 

Of the words 'Tyrrhic" and "Memphitic," the latter 
seems to connote a performance less insistent on the ele- 
ment of combat. To Minerva is credited the origin of 
the Memphitic group, legend having it that the goddess 
of wisdom composed these dances to celebrate the defeat 
of the Titans. The usual accompaniment was the flute, 
according with the idea of comparative tranquillity. 
Both styles were danced by women; special fame for 



i6 THE DANCE 

proficiency was given to the vigorous daughters of 
Sparta, Argos, and Arcadia, and to the Amazons. 

Pantomime was important in most Greek dances. 
Greek writers interested themselves in an effort to trace 
pantomime to its origin; but they were not very suc- 
cessful, because they went no further back than the demi- 
gods. Whereas sign-talk, if inference may be drawn 
from savages, antedates spoken language — which is be- 
side the point of the present sketch. 

Pantomime artists of Greece were of various ranks, 
according to the plane of thought represented in their 
work. Ethologues represented moralities, or viroOecres] 
they "depicted the emotions and the conduct of man so 
faithfully, that their art served as a rigorous censorship 
and taught useful lessons,'' writes De TAulnaye, in De 
la Saltation Thedtrale. They were not only artists, but 
philosophers of a moral standard of the utmost height 
and purity : the poems of one of them, Sophron of Syra- 
cuse, were among the writings kept at hand by Plato 
during his last hours. Gu/xeXt/cot were pantomimists of 
lesser rank, whose work was principally comedy of a 
farcical nature — though the word seems to have the 
primitive meaning of "chorister." 

Rich in scope was the Greek stage; and, until later 
days, generally high in plane. For its effects it drew 
upon poetry, music, dancing, grouping and posing. Lit- 
tle is known of the music; re-creations of it (how au- 
thoritative the authors do not know) are simple and 
melodious, with no attempt at grandeur. But in the 
other departments, what veritable gods in collaboration ! 
Euripides, Aristophanes, and ^schylus are of those who 
supplied texts. Sculptors whose works are no less per- 
ishable gave their knowledge to grouping and posing. 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 17 

Of the merit of the performers there is no adequate 
record, for lack, among other things, of an expHcit 
choreographic terminology. (This deficiency was first 
made up in the French language, after the organisation 
of the National Academy of Music and Dancing, in the 
seventeenth century. ) What is known, however, is that 
dancing was considered a proper medium of expression 
of great motives, and that great-minded artists chose 




Dance of Nymphs. 
From an antique frieze in the Louvre. 

it as a career; not in spite of a public condescension to 
it, but with the support of a profound public respect. 

/Accuracy of rhythm is of an importance obvious to 
grades of intelligence far below that of the Greeks. 
They laid stress no less on what may be called rhythmic 
quality than on mere emphasis of tempo. A time- 
marker was provided with an assortment of sandals 
soled with metal or wood of various thicknesses; by 
means of these he produced sounds consistent with the 
changing sentiments of the action. (Compare the 
modes of getting varied sounds from castanets, in chap- 
ter on Spanish dancing.) Castanets, too, were used in 
Greece, essentially the same as those of Spain to-day; 
also flat sticks in pairs, like clappers, but which unlike 



i8 THE DANCE 

clappers were gripped between the thumb and fingers. 
Little cymbals on the dancers' hands sometimes added 
their voice, and the tambourine was popular. The va- 
riety of these time-marking instruments indicates knowl- 
edge of the many effects attainable by tempo alone. In- 
deed a reading of the poets emphasises this: their 
selection of words for sound as well as meaning will 
force even a mediocre reader into an observance of the 
author's intention of ritard and accelerando, legato and 
staccato, emphasis and climax. Associated with ballet 
production, as the ablest poets were, it may be taken as 
assured that the devices of tempo were made familiar 
to dancers — unless it was the dance that taught the metre 
to the poets. 

Masks were worn to identify character ; but their pri- 
mary function appears to have been the concealment of 
a sound-magnifying device to carry the voice through 
the great spaces of out-door theatres. Women's parts 
in the ballets were played by men at least fre- 
quently; whether the reverse was a conspicuous excep- 
tion is also uncertain. Both usages were destined to 
survive in pantomime through centuries. Objection to 
the mask always was overruled by authority ; the Greek 
play was such an irreproachable organism that deviation 
from its accepted formulas was deemed an impious and 
dangerous heresy. In the eighteenth century a pre- 
mier danseur's absence put a French ballet director tem- 
porarily at the mercy of the second dancer, a young 
radical, who refused to ''go on" wearing a mask."^ Not 
until then was the mask tradition disturbed. 

Though exact data of the steps of popular dances are 
lacking, literary allusions record dance names and gen- 
eral character in great nurnber. A complete catalogue 

* See also page loi. 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 19 

of them would offer little inspiration to the lay student 
or the professional; no more than a hint of their broad 
scope is necessary. Dances suggesting the life of ani- 
mals were plentiful. Some were underlaid with a sym- 
bolic significance, as that of the crane, the bird's con- 
fused wanderings representing the efforts of Theseus 
to find his way out of the labyrinth, the legend in its 
turn probably having some relation to life and the tricks 
it plays on its possessors. The fox was a favourite sub- 
ject, and the lion was not overlooked. Though the au- 
thor of Chanticler may have been the first to avail him- 
self of the grotesqueries of poultry, the Greeks danced 
owls and vultures. Similar to the Oriental Danse du 
Ventre was the Kolia, probably brought across from 
Egypt. Another suggestion of North Africa was 
known in Greek language as the Dance of Spilled Meal 
— what more reasonable than to infer that it was the 
same in scheme as the Flour Dance of present-day Al- 
geria? The flour or meal that identifies this perform- 
ance is spread on the floor, and a more or less involved 
design traced in it. What follows is interesting chiefly 
as a test of a species of virtuosity: the dancer's object 
is, in her successive turns across and about the design, 
to plant her feet always within the same spaces, the 
loose meal exposing any failure. Rapidity of tempo 
and involution of step may raise the difliculties to a point 
beyond the reach of any but the most skilful. The chil- 
dren's game of Hop-scotch is a degenerated kinsman of 
the dance in and over a design. 

>. There were dances of satyrs and goats, nymphs, mon- 
keys, gods and goddesses, flowers, grapes and the wine- 
press. Combat was rendered into poetry in the Spear 
Dance, the Fight with the Shadow {aKlanaxLo), the fights 



20 THE DANCE 

with shields, with swords. There were ''rounds," per- 
formed by an indefinite number of people joining hands 
in a ring; traces of these are said to survive as peas- 
ant dances of the Greece of to-day. There were solos, 
pas de deux and pas de quatre. Pythagoras made a 
period of dancing a part of the daily routine of his pu- 
pils, Hymeneia were danced to help celebrate a well- 
conducted wedding. Prayers, sacrifices and funerals, 
as stated before, were incomplete without their several 
and special dances. 

Movement no less than speech is a vehicle for satire, 
wit, sensuality and indecency. Theophrastus, with the 
intent of showing the degree of shamelessness to which 
erring humanity may fall, tells of a man who performed 
a dance called the Cordax without the excuse of being 
drunk at the time of the deed. Covering a wide range 
of light motives was the Sikinnis, the word being applied 
both to a certain dance and to a form of satirical mimo- 
drama. In the latter sense it burlesqued the politics, 
philosophy and drama of the day. As all peoples divide 
themselves into masses and classes on lines of taste as 
well as of money, so also eventually the Athenians. In 
the hands of the Athens rabble — catered to perhaps by 
ancestors of certain twentieth-century managers — the 
Sikinnis, as a satire, fell into the slough of vulgarity. 

As a dance it may be thought of as a favourite of that 
Alcibiades type of youth in whom education has not de- 
pressed Arcadian frivolity. How such a one vexed the 
solemnity of a court is the subject of an anecdote com- 
piled by Herodotus. Clisthenes, king of Sicyon, in or- 
der to marry his daughter to the greatest advantage, 
decided to settle the selection of her husband by com- 
petition. The invitation met with due interest on the 




Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 

Tanagra Figures 



To face page ro 



ANCIENT EGYPT AND GREECE 21 

part of the rich and the great. Suitors came from far 
and near, among them two from Athens. An ominous 
circumstance, for '*Attic salt" was out of the same barrel 
as the ''sal de Andalucia" of to-day ; both have the record 
of becoming operative immediately on exposure to any 
air of oversolemnity. 

After days of regal festivity, Clisthenes dedicated a 
hecatomb to the gods, gave a final banquet, and an- 
nounced that the suitor-selecting competition would be 
along the lines of music and poetry. When it came to 
the turn of Hippoclides, one of the two Athenians, he 
asked that a table be brought in. On this he mounted, 
stood on his hands, and traced the figures of a Sikinnis 
in the air with his feet ! 

Until the king's temper was quite gone, the perform- 
ance was received in silence. Herodotus supposed that 
Hippoclides interpreted the silence as encouragement; 
but Herodotus very clearly did not know that kind of 
boy. The polished though inverted youth on the table 
was estimating the horror among his worthy spectators, 
and luxuriating. 

__. Greece, with her fine simplicity of thought, furnished 
the pattern on which was cut the civilisation of early 
Rome; Greek art, the concrete expression of her lofty 
thought, furnished Rome a model. Which model Rome 
followed until loot and tribute provided her with means 
to express the taste that was her own. 




Greek Comedy Dancing. 



CHAPTER II 

DANCING IN ROME 

AN art that achieves beauty by means of the grace 
of simple Hnes, elegance of proportion and other 
simple resources of composition, is the art of a 
vigorous nation. Such an art scorns florid treatment, 
surface realism, triviality; and such an art was that of 
early Rome. It had that something clumsily called 
semiasceticism, that attaches to dignity. 

A national art quality exists, as is axiomatic, upon a 
basis and by virtue of a corresponding public state of 
mind; each influencing the other, but the public state 
of mind being the force that shapes the art, rather than 
the reverse. The spirit of simplicity dominated Greece 
through many centuries of her grandeur. In Rome it 
endured until Rome grew rich. Its coexistence in the 
case of the two peoples was no more than a coincidence ; 
they arrived at their common simplicity through wholly 
different processes. 

In Greece, beauty was understood. Action and 
adornment were restrained because their value was 
found to be multiplied by sparing use ; because, too, any 
excess of them detracted from the great qualities of line 
and proportion. In Greece, moreover, beauty disso- 
ciated from subject or sentiment could always find an 
appreciative reception; the Hellenic mind loved beauty 
for its own sake. And that is the cause of the reserve 
that governs the best Greek art. 

Early Rome, too, instilled into her children the spirit 

22 



DANCING IN ROME 23 

of simplicity. Not, however, with any understanding 
of the relation of simplicity to beauty and dignity. War 
and lust for conquest made the early Roman stern; and 
simplicity, attached to a very real asceticism, was thrust 
upon him by the uncompromising hand of poverty. 
But, after a few centuries of fattening on loot and trib- 
ute, what of Rome? Stupidity, degeneracy and vul- 
garity. 

Loot and tribute ! In respect to riches both material 
and mental, other peoples' contributions to Rome's des- 
tiny were of a degree of importance sometimes under- 
rated. Her monumental physical structure was built 
from taxes gathered by the mailed hand. In respect to 
her thought, expressed in essays, poems, orations, let- 
ters, commentaries or whatsoever other form, the ex- 
tent of other nations' contribution to Rome's apparent 
originality is, at first glance, less evident. Upon Greek 
foundations of narrative structure, metre, and form in 
general, Roman writings are built, Romanised though 
they be in subject-matter — but Rome's sterility of inven- 
tion in that field is suited rather to the discussion of lit- 
erary men than of dance-lovers. 

But sculpture is pertinent. The first so-called Ro- 
man art was accomplished by carving Roman faces 
upon thickened figures in Greek poses, executing them 
in Greek technique of modelling, and naming them Ro- 
man gods and senators. Later the Greek simplicity of 
modelling was discarded; to replace it there was 
achieved an ostentatious mediocrity. The Pompeian 
frescoes? The good ones were painted by Greeks, 
brought across for the purpose. And the vivacious lit- 
tle statues found in Pompeii express the same artistic- 
ally witty point of view. 



24 THE DANCE 

In the field of material gain and convenience Rome's 
contribution to the world is not to be questioned. But 
water-supply, paving, land laws and fortifications are 
not related to questions of taste. It is Roman taste of 
which one tries to form a conception, in order to explain, 
at least in part, the disappointing history of dancing un- 
der the Caesars. And the mere direction of attention 
to Rome's relation to the arts anticipates the story of 
her treatment of the dance, leaving only details to be 
told. 

First in chronology is found the dancing symbolical 
of war. Then comes a simple religious choreography, 
under the Salic priests, supplementing the ritual of sac- 
rifice. As time goes on Greek dances are transplanted, 
with the degree of success to be expected among a race 
whose minds, though active, are pleased only by ma- 
terial power, gain, and ostentation: by a process of 
atrophy following non-appreciation, the symbolism dis- 
appears from symbolic dances and the ideal of beauty 
from the purely beautiful dances. They became at best 
a display of agility to amuse rustics. More generally 
they fell into the service of sex allurement ; not the sug- 
gestive merely, nor the provocative, but unbridled depic- 
tion of what should not be revealed and of things that 
should not exist. This condition of affairs is more than 
hinted in works of some of the much-read Latin writers, 
stated by archaeologists, and confirmed by certain Pom- 
peian statues. 

Such offences, despite the resentment they arouse in 
the feelings of any naturally constituted person, might 
be partially pardoned by the dance-lover if they con- 
tributed anything to the dance. But absolutely they 
do not. There is latent drama and good drama in sex 



DANCING IN ROME 2^ 

relationships ; but not one accent of its valid expression 
can be traced to dances of obscenity. The dancer who 
gives himself over to obscenity loses, every time, the 
things that made him a dancer : form, truth and beauty 
of movement and posture. Where the art of dancing 
is appreciated, artists avoid obscene suggestion. Where 
it is not, many are forced to it in order to make a 
living. However, even where the art is appreciated, 
obscenity furnishes the incompetent a means of pretence 
of an artist's career; for obscenity is sure of a mixed 
following of rabblement, some in rags and some in vel- 
vet. 

Among the Romans themselves, actual participation 
in the dance was not popular. Propriety forbade so 
close an association with an art disfigured and dirtied, 
the Roman reviling as unclean the image soiled by his 
own hand. From Spain, Greece and Syria people were 
brought to dance before gourmands and wasters, de- 
graded to the level of their patrons' appreciation, and 
discarded when they had exhausted the scope of novel- 
ties suitable to the demand. Several centuries of Ro- 
man employment of dancers contributed not one step, 
gesture or expression to the art ; the plastic and graphic 
records show only that which is Greek, or, on the other 
hand inane, vulgar, or degenerate. To the latter levels 
sank the Ludiones and the Saturnalia; instituted as reli- 
gious celebrations, ending as orgies. 

It is vaguely asserted that the Roman stage ampli- 
fied the Greek scope of pantomime. And, notwith- 
standing the many reasons to distrust such a statement, 
there were two artists whose work may have been of 
a class to justify it. They were Pylades and Bathyllus, 
natives respectively of Silicia and Alexandria. Their 



26 THE DANCE 

names live in the impression they produced. Of the 
character of their work it is impossible to learn any- 
thing explicit ; "softly dancing Bathyllus" is as concrete 
a reference as anything to be found about them in writ- 
ings of their period. So it is impossible to know 
whether their great popularity was due to merit, or to 
ingenious compliance with the taste of their adopted 
city. Their record, therefore, must stand as the story 
of a furor, and not necessarily as that of artistic 
achievement. 

'The rivalries of Pylades and Bathyllus occupied the 
Romans as much as the gravest affairs of state. Every 
Roman was a Bathyllian or a Pyladian," De I'Aulnaye 
writes. Vuillier presents a more graphic image of their 
hold on public attention: "Their theatrical supporters, 
clad in different liveries, used to fight in the streets, and 
bloody brawls were frequent throughout the city.'' For 
the endless quarrelling and intriguing between the two, 
Pylades was once taken to task by the emperor. The 
answer was that of a lofty artist or a publicity-seeking 
gallery-player, let him decide who can: "Csesar, it is 
well for you that the people are occupied with our quar- 
rels; their attention is in that way diverted from your 
actions.'' 

His arrogance directed itself impartially toward ruler 
and subject. Representing the madness of Hercules — 
he combined pantomime with dancing — he shot arrows 
into the audience. Octavius being present on such an 
occasion refrained from any expression of disapproval. 
Was he afraid of offending his people by so much as 
an implied criticism of their favourite? It is not un- 
likely. When, unable to control his impatience with 
Pylades' unsettling influence, the emperor banished him, 



DANCING IN ROME 27 

a revocation of the decree was made imperative by signs 
of a popular insurrection ! 

Not the least of the instances of Pyladian insolence 
was his interruption of the action of a play to scold his 
audience. During a performance of Hercules some 
one complained loudly that the movement was extrava- 
gant. Pylades tore off his mask and shouted back, ''I 
am representing a madman, you fools !" 

So much for Pylades and Bathyllus. The jealous, 
hypertemperamental artist who allows nothing to inter- 
fere with the effect of the work to which he is conse- 
crated sometimes falls into eccentricities of conduct. 
Such eccentricities are copied to admiration by impu- 
dent incompetents; and, contrary to P. T. Barnum's 
aphorism, some of them do "fool all the people all the 
time" — especially if those people themselves lack the 
clear vision of simplicity. Impudence to emperors and 
"shooting up" audiences may mean the utmost of either 
sincerity or hypocrisy; choice of opinion is free. Cer- 
tainly the Roman Empire's political intrigues reveal a 
profound and practical knowledge of the science of pub- 
licity; it is an ancient profession. 

Artists, advertisers or both, it matters not at all, Py- 
lades and Bathyllus failed to lift dancing from the mire. 
The self-styled "Eternal City," the Rome of the Caesars, 
held it down to her level till her rotted hands could cling 
no longer, yet treated it from first to last with scorn. 
Horace, who never allowed his wit to lead him into dan- 
ger of offending any except those without influence on 
his patron Maecenas, repeatedly uses association with 
dancers as a synonym of disreputability. Cicero takes 
a fling at the art ; Sallust attacks a lady for dancing with 
a degree of skill unbecoming a virtuous woman. With 



28 THE DANCE 

the logic of a father who locked up his children so that 
they should not teach bad manners to their parents, suc- 
cessive emperors banished dancers for doing their work 
according to the taste of their patrons. 

Rome's inability to move her imagination on a high 
plane had decayed her, muscle, brain and bone; wealth 
slipped away, and all of her that was respected was her 
remote past. In the meantime she had imposed upon 
Europe her laws and prejudices. Ears trained to cred- 
ulous attention were those that heard her complaint of 
the depravity of dancing — a complaint given colour by 
the obscenity of the only secular dancing known to 
Europeans (outside of Spain) in the time of the empire's 
decadence. With such a combined force of misrepre- 
sentation against it, its restoration to a proper position 
among the great arts was destined to be postponed a 
thousand years. To this day there persists to its in- 
jury an echo of its early defamation. 

Yet in the hour of humiliation, the dance gained the 
respect of the only earthly power that might reasonably 
hope, in such an extremity, to save it from a miserable 
end. It was taken under the protection of the Christian 
Church. 



CHAPTER III 

THE MIDDLE AGES AND THE RENAISSANCE 

CHRISTIANITY, like the religions of the He- 
brews of old and the Greeks, employed dancing 
as an important part of the ritual of worship. 
During the greater part of a thousand years, the re- 
lation was not violently disturbed; the ballet d' action 
served in the mass before the altar, and in the ''morali- 
ties" that long held favour as an agency of spiritual 
instruction. A clerical it was who eventually composed 
and staged the great pantomime which the many au- 
thorities place as the first modern ballet. 

European society, slowly emerging from the mire of 
Roman manners, at length found itself hungry for 
beauty, and capable of intelligent use of pearls. The 
ballet masque was evolved, and long remained the su- 
premely brilliant feature of noble festivities. PoHte 
society, headed by a king, was the founder of the ballet 
as it is now known. But this was in modern times. 
The institution that had conserved choreography 
through the brutishness of the Dark Ages was the 
Church. 

To one Father Menestrier is owed a compilation of 

data about dancing, especially in relation to religion. 

The good father was a Jesuit living in the seventeenth 

century, his book having been written about 1682. 

While his own comments are not always contributory to 

exact knowledge of choreographic detail, the facts he 

29 



30 THE DANCE 

collected from a great variety of sources are important 
and interesting. In the following passage he definitely 
attaches dancing to the ritual : 

''Divine service was composed of psalms, hymns and 
canticles, because men sang and danced the praises of 
God, as they read His oracles in those extracts of the 
Old and New Testaments which we still know under 
the name of Lessons. The place in which these acts 
of worship were offered to God was called the choir, 
just as those portions of comedies and tragedies in which 
dancing and singing combined to make up the inter- 
ludes were called choruses. Prelates were called in the 
Latin tongue, Prcesiiles a Prcesiliendo, because in the 
choir they took that part in the praises of God which 
he who led the dances, and was called by the Greeks 
Choregus, took in the public games.'' 

The word '"prcesul" was the designation of the chief 
priest of the Salii, of early Rome. 

Quoting from St. Basil's Epistle to St. Gregory, 
Menestrier writes further: "What could be more 
blessed than to imitate on earth the rhythm of an- 
gels?" {"Quid itaque beatius esse poterit quam in 
terra tripudia Angelorum imitarif) To this he adds: 
"Philosophers have also existed who believed that these 
spirits had no other means of communication among 
themselves but signs and movements arranged after the 
manner of dances. After this we need not be surprised 
that Virgil, in the sixth book of the ^neid, makes the 
spirits dance in the Elysian fields." 

The Emperor Julian was reproved by St. Gregory of 
Nazianzus, not for dancing, but for the kind of dances 
with which he occupied himself. "If you are fond of 
dancing," said the saint, "if your inclination leads you 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 31 

to these festivals that you appear to love so passion- 
ately, dance as much as you will; I consent. But why 
revive before our eyes the dissolute dances of the bar- 
barous Herodias and the Pagans ? Rather perform the 
dances of King David before the Ark; dance to the 
honour of God. Such exercises of peace and piety are 
worthy of an emperor and a Christian.'' 

No more need be quoted to explain the adoption of 
dancing by the Church, and the regard in which it was 
held by the reverend fathers. By some of them, that 
is. Others held it in different estimation. Odon, 
Bishop of Paris, proscribed dancing in the twelfth cen- 
tury. Notwithstanding, the fifteenth and sixteenth see 
in Spain the so-called Villancicos de Navidad (a choreo- 
graphic celebration of the birth of Christ) and the dances 
of the Seises, then as now performed in the Cathedral 
of Seville. The latter were authorised in 1439 by a 
Bull of Pope Eugenius IV. Their discontinuance was 
ordered by Don Jayme de Palafox, Archbishop of Se- 
ville. To settle the matter the Seises were taken to 
Rome and their dances shown to the Pope, who as a 
consequence approved their continuance. 

France, too, declined to take the proscription seriously, 
as almost numberless documents and images attest. In 
1584 the Canon of Langres, by name Jehan Tabourot, 
otherwise Thoinet Arbeau, wrote (in his seventieth 
year) his work called Orchesographie. He refers 
cheerfully to opposition: ^'We practice such merry- 
making on days of wedding celebrations, and of the sol- 
emnities of the feasts of our Church, even though the 
reformers abhor such things ; but in this matter they de- 
serve to be treated like some hind-quarter of goat put 
into dough without lard." {''Mais ils merit eroient d'y 



32 THE DANCE 

etre traictez de quelque gigot de bouc mis en paste sans 
lard/') Not an infelicitous metaphor, after inquiry 
reveals that dough without lard bakes to the hardness 
of concrete, so that the aid of a hammer is necessary to 
crack the shell. What more satisfying disposal of dis- 
senters from one's own opinions ? 

Proofs of the dance's tenacious inclination to embody 
itself in the worship of the vital new religion are many. 
Records of efforts to establish it are mingled with those 
of counter-efforts to expel it ; on the one side a belief that 
worship is an emotional expression, on the other a lean- 
ing toward logic. Whether religious uplift is a matter 
of emotion or of reason is a question perhaps not wholly 
settled yet. Certainly the mediaeval writers recorded lit- 
tle to reflect a spirit of compromise — no concession that 
ritual or logic might advantageously be chosen with some 
reference to the psychology of the individual. At the 
suggestion of the Council of Toledo, a ritual rich in sacred 
choreography was composed by Saint Isidore, archbishop 
of Seville in the seventh century. Another century pro- 
duced two occurrences of choreographic importance at 
about the same moment: from Pope Zacharias, a pro- 
hibition of dancing; from the Moorish invasion, preser- 
vation of the seven churches of Toledo. Of the two 
influences, the latter was deemed paramount. In the 
seven churches a mass known as the Mozarabe was 
established, continued in all of them through the gen- 
erations of Moorish occupancy of the city, and is still 
celebrated daily in the cathedral. In the other six 
churches it was discontinued toward the middle of the 
nineteenth century. With accompaniment of the tam- 
bourine, whose resonance Saint Isidore characterised as 
"the half of melody,'' the service included solemn dan- 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 33 

cing of the style of the Saraband and the Pavane, 
Whether or not the choreographic features are still re- 
tained, the authors are unable to say. 

Writing in 1731 a Discourse on Comedy, Father 
Pierre le Brun contributes the information : " . . . that 
while the preachers were saying their mass, buffoons, 
histrions, players of instruments and different other 
farceurs were made to come; this disorder is severely 
forbidden, as well as dances and the presentation of 
spectacles in the churches and cemeteries. The same 
prohibition is found in the synodic statutes of the diocese 
of Soissons, printed in that city in 1561. Dances were 
sometimes performed before the church, and there was 
not less objection made against the practice at that 
time. . . . Meanwhile it is disgracefully tolerated in 
some of the country parishes.'' 

These "spectacles'' were the vehicle that carried the 
mimetic ballet through the Dark Ages from Rome's li- 
centious theatre and banquet hall to the stately salon of 
the Medici. Under the name of "moralities" they sur- 
vive to this day in convents, though clipped as to their 
choreographic wings. Everyman, played a few years 
ago by Ben Greet and his company, was a re-creation of 
some of the elements of the early morality, plus speech 
and minus dancing. Love, aspiration, reverence ; envy, 
fear, remorse and various other elemental abstractions 
that inhabit the human soul were the source of most of 
the morality's characters; the dramatic action con- 
sisted — usually if not always — in a simple treatment of 
the influences wrought by the varied forces on the des- 
tiny of a man. The man, no more and no less than 
the abstract qualities, was represented by an actor. Oc- 
currences of man's life, both earthly and subsequent, 



34 THE DANCE 

were equally available as dramatic material. Apostles, 
angels and even God were of frequent representation. 

A start was made in a direction destined to lead to the 
development of scenery. Whereas the Greek drama es- 
tablished the setting by means of spoken words (and the 
Roman apparently made no exception to the same prac- 
tice), the early morality specified the setting by means 
of words or crude symbols marked on objects, the back 
wall, and other available surfaces: ''forest," "front of 
house,'' ''Heaven,'' "street," or whatever was necessary. 
Elaboration by degrees brought these primitive sugges- 
tions up to the point of real scenery, with practical me- 
chanical devices for sensational entrances. 

One must infer that the semiconstant opposition of 
the Church to these representations was necessitated by 
occasional forgetfulness of their sacred character. The 
pagan gods persistently lingered among the dramatis 
personcE, undismayed by the fact that they were dead, 
and unshamed by the treatment their followers had ac- 
corded Christianity. Performers no less than authors 
were sometimes guilty of ribaldry ranging from the friv- 
olous to the impious. "A canon playing entirely nude 
the role of Christ, and a clerk representing Saint Fran- 
cis in a scene of seduction, undressed in the same man- 
ner, were not at all spectacles of which the originators 
of the genre had dreamed." 

Yet the good clearly outweighed the bad. And al- 
though repeatedly prohibited, no mention is found of 
dancing being severely penalised. Now at the altar and 
again at the feast it serves, in whatever capacity is re- 
quired of it, until at length it comes into prominent con- 
nection with the strolling ballet. 

For the morality play — or mystery, as it is otherwise 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 35 

known — becomes an elaborate affair, with casts and 
mechanical and scenic effects, on such a scale that it must 
collect more coppers than one town affords, in order to 
recover the initial expense of the production. On a 
scale sufficient to make an impression on its times was 
the spectacle designed to celebrate the canonisation of 
Carlo Borromeo, at Lisbon in 1 610. In the words of 
VuilHer: "A ship, bearing a statue of St. Carlo, ad- 
vanced toward Lisbon, as though to take possession of 
the soil of Portugal, and all the ships in the harbour 
went out to meet it. St. Anthony of Padua and St. 
Vincent, patrons of the town, received the newcomer, 
amid salvoes of artillery from forts and vessels. On 
his disembarkation, St. Carlo Borromeo was received 
by the clergy and carried in a procession in which fig- 
ured four enormous chariots. The first represented 
Fame, the second the city of Milan, the third Portugal, 
and the fourth the Church. Each religious body and 
each brotherhood in the procession carried its patron 
saint upon a richly decorated litter. 

'The statue of St. Carlo Borromeo was enriched with 
jewels of enormous value, and each saint was decorated 
with rich ornaments. It is estimated that the value of 
the jewelry that bedecked these images was not less than 
four millions of francs (£160,000). 

"Between each chariot, bands of dancers enacted 
various scenes. In Portugal, at that period, processions 
and religious ceremonies would have been incomplete 
if they had not been accompanied by dancing in token 
of joy. 

"In order to add brilliancy to these celebrations, tall 
gilded masts, decorated with crowns and many-coloured 
banners, were erected at the doors of the churches and 



36 



THE DANCE 



along the route of the choreographic procession. These 
masts also served to show the points at which the pro- 
cession should halt, for the dancers to perform the prin- 
cipal scenes of their ballet." 

A century and a half before this — in 1462 — King 
Rene of Provence had organised an entertainment, at 
once religious and social, given on the eve of Corpus 
Christi. The word ''entremef was applied to the alle- 




Dance of Peasants. 
After a sixteenth-century engraving. 

gorical scenes, denoting ''interlude,'' like the Italian 
''intermezzo.'' Other components of the representation 
were combats and dances. The affair as a whole was 
a mixture of the sacred and profane to which any idea 
of unity was completely alien: Fame on a winged 
horse; burlesque representations of the Duke and 
Duchess of Urbino, riding donkeys (why represented, 
no one knows — but during three centuries the two were 
travestied in Corpus Christi processions) ; Mars and 
Minerva, Pan and Syrinx, Pluto and Proserpine, fauns, 
dryads and tritons dancing to drums, fifes and castanets ; 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 37 

Jupiter, Juno, Venus and Love following in a chariot. 
The three Fates, King Herod persecuted by devils, more 
devils pursuing a soul, it in turn protected by a guardian 
angel; Jews dancing around a golden calf; the Queen 
of Sheba and suite; Magi following a star hung at the 
end of a pole ; the Massacre of the Innocents ; Christ and 
the Apostles — all were scattered through and among the 
groups of legendary beings of Greece. More dancers, 
a detachment of soldiers, and Death with a scythe fol- 
lowing after all others, approximately completed the 
fantastic catalogue. 

The entertainment as a whole was called by the king 
the Lou Gue. A number of the French popular dance 
airs that lasted for centuries are said to date back to 
it. Tradition credits the king with the composition of 
the work in all its branches — conception, ballets, music 
and all. 

The childish lack of theme, or scheme, bars the Lou 
Gue and the entertainments that followed from any 
comparison with a ballet spectacle of later times, or of 
antiquity. But it bridged a gap to better things, kept 
the ballet in existence, and had the merit of being amus- 
ing. In eccentricity it may well be coupled with the 
celebration of the wedding of Charles the Bold and Mar- 
garet of England; ''fabulous spectacles imprinted with 
a savage gallantry,'' as M. Brussel puts it. The proces- 
sion of the latter affair included a leopard riding a uni- 
corn, a dwarf on a gigantic lion, and a dromedary bear- 
ing panniers of birds, "strangely painted as though they 
came from India," that were released among the com- 
pany. 

The fete organised by Bergonzio de Botta in 1489, 
showed a step in the direction of the ballet's destined 



38 THE DANCE 

progress. The occasion was the marriage of Galeazzo, 
Duke of Milan, with Isabel of Aragon. This fete em- 
ployed the dance, music, poetry and pantomime in the 
adornment of a banquet; and the whole entertainment 
was unified with ingenious consistency. The descrip- 
tion of it given by Castil-Blaze cannot be improved 
upon : 

"The Amphitryon chose for his theatre a magnificent 
hall surrounded by a gallery, in which several bands of 
music had been stationed; an empty table occupied the 
middle. At the moment when the Duke and Duchess 
appeared, Jason and the Argonauts advanced proudly 
to the sound of martial music. They bore the Golden 
Fleece ; this was the tablecloth, with which they covered 
the table, after having executed a stately dance, expres- 
sive of their admiration of so beautiful a princess, and 
of a sovereign so worthy to possess her. Next came 
Mercury, who related how he had been clever enough 
to trick Apollo, shepherd of Admetus, and rob him of a 
fat calf, which he ventured to present to the newly mar- 
ried pair, after having had it nobly trussed and pre- 
pared by the best cook on Olympus. While he was 
placing it upon the table, three quadrilles that followed 
him danced round the fatted calf, as the Hebrews had 
formerly capered round that of gold. 

"Diana and her nymphs followed Mercury. It is 
unnecessary to say that a fanfare of hunting-horns her- 
alded the entrance of Diana, and accompanied the dance 
of the nymphs. 

*'The music changed its character; lutes and flutes 
announced the approach of Orpheus. I would recall to 
the memory of those who might have forgotten it, that 
at that period they changed their instruments accord- 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 39 

ing to the varying expression of the music played. Each 
singer, each dancer, had his especial orchestra, which 
was arranged for him according to the sentiments in- 
tended to be expressed by his song or his dance. It was 
an excellent plan, and served to vary the symphonies; 
it announced the return of a character who had already 
appeared, and produced a varied succession of trumpets, 
of violins with their sharp notes, of the arpeggios of 
lutes, and of the soft melodies of flutes and reed pipes. 
The orchestrations of Monteverde prove that the com- 
posers at that time varied their instrumentation thus, 
and this particular artifice was not one of the least causes 
of the prodigious success of opera in the first years of 
its creation. 

''But to return to the singer of Thrace, whom I left 
standing somewhat too long at the door. He appeared 
chanting the praises of the Duchess, and accompanying 
himself on a lyre. 

" T wept,' he went on, 'long did I weep on the Apen- 
nine mount the death of the gentle Eurydice. I have 
heard of the union of two lovers worthy to live one for 
the other, and for the first time since my misfortune I 
have experienced a feeling of pleasure. My songs 
changed with the feelings of my heart. A crowd of 
birds fluttered down to listen to me; I seized these im- 
prudent listeners, and I spitted them all to roast them for 
the most beautiful princess on earth, since Eurydice is no 
more.^ 

"A sound of brass instruments interrupted the bird- 
snaring virtuoso; Atalanta and Theseus, escorted by 
a brilliant and agile troop, represented a boar hunt by 
means of lively dances. It ended in the death of the boar 
of Calydon, which they offered to the young Duke, exe- 



40 THE DANCE 

cuting a triumphal ballet. Iris, in a chariot drawn by 
peacocks, followed by nymphs clad in light transparent 
gauze, appeared on one side, and laid on the table dishes 
of her own superb and delicate birds. Hebe, bearing 
nectar, appeared on the other side, accompanied by shep- 
herds from Arcady, and by Vertumnus and Pomona, who 
presented iced creams and cheeses, peaches, apples, 
oranges and grapes. At the same moment the shade of 
the gastronomer Apicius rose from the earth. The il- 
lustrious professor came to inspect this splendid banquet, 
and to communicate his discoveries to the guests. 

'This spectacle disappeared to give place to a great 
ballet of Tritons and Rivers laden with the most deli- 
cious fish. Crowned with parsley and watercress, these 
aquatic deities despoiled themselves of their head- 
dresses to make a bed for the turbot, the trout, and the 
perch that they placed upon the table. 

'T know not whether the epicures invited by the host 
were much amused by these ingenious ceremonies, and 
whether their tantalised stomachs did not cry out against 
all the pleasures offered to their eyes and ears; history 
does not enter into these details. Moreover, Bergonzio 
de Botta understood too well how to organise a feast 
not to have put some ballast into his guests in the shape 
of a copious luncheon, which might serve as a preface, 
or argument, an introduction if you will, to the dinner 
prepared by the gods, demigods. Nymphs, Tritons, 
Fauns and Dryads. 

'This memorable repast was followed by a singular 
spectacle. It was inaugurated by Orpheus, who con- 
ducted Hymen and Cupids. The Graces presented Con- 
jugal Fidelity, who offered herself to wait upon the prin- 
cess. Semiramus, Helen, Phaedra, Medea and Cleopatra 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 41 

interrupted the solo of Conjugal Fidelity by singing of 
their own lapses, and the delights of infidelity. Fidelity, 
indignant at such audacity, ordered these criminal queens 
to retire. The Cupids attacked them, pursuing them 
with their torches, and setting fire to the long veils that 
covered their heads. Something, clearly, was necessary 




Ballet of the Four Parts of the World: Entrance of the Grand 

Khan. 
After an old drawing, Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris. 

to counterbalance this scene. Lucretia, Penelope, Tho- 
myris, Judith, Portia and Sulpicia advanced, and laid 
at the feet of the duchess the palms of virtue they had 
won during their lives. As the graceful and modest 
dance of the matrons might have seemed a somewhat 
cold termination to so brilliant a fete, the author had 
recourse to Bacchus, Silenus and to the Satyrs, and their 
follies animated the end of the ballet." 

The entertainment made a sensation. It was at the 
time of the Renaissance : the Occidental mind was awak- 



42 THE DANCE 

ening after a thousand years of sleep, and craved em- 
ployment. Taste was being reborn, along with men- 
tality. The pleasures of contact between minds was be- 
ing rediscovered; the institution of Polite Society was 
rapidly finding itself. 

To attempt to repeat the Bergonzio de Botta enter- 
tainment would have been to invite comparisons ; to sur- 
pass it in any point but magnitude would have been ex- 
cessively difficult. Its influence on entertainments that 
followed directed itself toward the development of the 
masque, a form of musical pantomime that remained, 
through centuries, an indispensable adjunct of festal 
gatherings in the courts of the Continent and England. 
The characters in the De Botta production, it will be 
noted, were, with two or three exceptions, from Greek 
mythology. This was the culmination of a fashion that 
had been growing, and is fairly representative of the 
revival of learning then in progress. It was not until 
a few years ago that familiarity with classic tradition 
ceased to be considered a part of the education of a 
lady or gentleman. There is no reason to believe that 
the lack of such erudition makes one the less a lady or 
a gentleman; but its discontinuance is unfortunate for 
the pantomime ballet. In Greek mythology, both nat- 
ural manifestations and mental attributes were personi- 
fied. Not with the completeness of a catalogue, but 
enough to express a great many points by the mere 
presence of certain characters. Venus, Minerva, Diana ; 
Dionysius, Orpheus, Apollo, Mercury — all were accepted 
symbols of certain human qualities. In relegating their 
acquaintance to the depository of cast-off mental fur- 
niture, people have failed to create new symbols to take 
the place of the old. Harlequin and Columbine we have, 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 43 

and a few others. But how many are the figures whose 
mere entrance, without the interruption of dramatic ac- 
tion, could be depended upon to introduce definite and 
recognisable ideas ? Pantomime has to be explained on 
the programme nowadays ; and as nobody gets to his seat 
until after the auditorium lights are down, the pro- 
gramme is unread and people complain that the charac- 
ters lack meaning. Broadly, Modernism has devised 
for itself an education that teaches it to earn each day 
the cost of a thousand pleasures, but by which it is 
robbed of the power to enjoy any one of them. 

Scattered through mediaeval choreographic history are 
allusions to an employment of chivalry as subject-mat- 
ter of pantomime. But the idea never seems to have 
taken root, as is natural enough, considering the rela- 
tion between dancing and armour — and armour was 
worn by the unfortunate dancers chosen to represent 
knights. The dance of chivalry was not an influence, 
and is mentioned only as a choreographic curiosity. 

Bergonzio de Botta's great entertainment, as has been 
shown, led squarely up to the masque, one of the ballet's 
immediate forerunners. Meantime the Church's con- 
tribution to the art was no longer a matter of moralities 
for the edification of mediaeval rustics ; high dignitaries, 
proceeding partly under ecclesiastical inspiration and 
partly under tolerance, were evolving a choro-dramatic 
form that took no second place to the masque in prepar- 
ing the way for the art that was to come. Sixteenth- 
century Rome and Florence saw "sacred representa- 
tions" ii} which were utilised the S altar ello [see chapter 
on Italian dances], the Pavane, the Siciliana, la Gigue, 
the Gaillarde and la Moresca. The last was accom- 
panied by heel-tappings, like many of the dances of 



44 THE DANCE 

Spain to-day. Its music survives in Monteverde's opera 
Orfeo, written at the beginning of the seventeenth cen- 
tury; in other words, music was beginning to be worth 
while. More important than any other single acquisi- 
tion, to say the least, was the alliance of some of the 
monarchs of form and colour to whom half the glory 
of the Renaissance is due. Of Ariosto's Suppositi, pre- 
sented in the Vatican in 1518, the decorations were by 
Raphael. Andrea del Sarto, Brunelleschi and Cecca en- 
riched with their sacred figures the mimo-dramas played 
in Florence. In Milan, Leonardo da Vinci lent to the 
reality and beauty of the religious ballet the palette from 
which was painted the "Mona Lisa." Furthermore, 
it is not to be supposed that these and other masters of 
line, colour and the drama of light were not called to the 
aid of ballet grouping and movement. The period leaves 
no record of a great ballet composer or director. It does 
leave reason to believe, nevertheless, that in grouping 
and evolution, as well as decoration, music and accesso- 
ries, these sacred representations lacked nothing to en- 
title them to a respectable place in the annals of opera 
ballet. Steps were still primitive, but sufficient unto 
their day. 

Authorities disagree as to which one of several per- 
formances is entitled to the recognition due the first 
presentation of modern ballet. As a matter of accuracy, 
any decision should be made only after considering ex- 
actly which of several species of modern ballet is meant. 
For the organisation of the first ballet spectacle con- 
forming to the multiple standards of modern excellence, 
the honour seems to be deserved by Catherine de Medici. 
True to her family traditions, she took it as an expres- 
sion of beauty for its own sake, and developed it in ac- 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 45 

cordance with French genius for order and form, as is 
described in later pages. But the first production of 
opera ballet, in the sense of a divertissement or inter- 
mezzo composed to interpret sentiments of dramatic ac- 
tion that it precedes or follows, the consensus of au- 
thority attributes to a work of Cardinal Riario, a 
nephew of Pope Sixtus IV. He composed and staged 
in Castel San Angelo a number of productions in 
which the ballet was important, during the latter part 
of the fifteenth century. Besides Pope Sixtus IV, Alex- 
ander VI and Leo X were strongly in sympathy with the 
movement to exalt choreography to its ancient and 
proper estate. The educated aristocracy of various 
Italian cities gave it support and protection. Important 
among these champions was Lorenzo de Medici, with 
his rare combination of means and scholarly understand- 
ing of the arts. Savonarola acidly charged him with 
softening the people by means of pagan spectacles, while 
Lorenzo went on adapting and composing. 

The Jewish element of Italian society contributed its 
part to the new art's development. At Mantua, where 
the Jews formed a numerous colony, they built a theatre 
on the models of antiquity. Productions were directed 
by Bernard Tasso, father of the author of Jerusalem 
Delivered. Torquato himself went in 1573 to produce 
La Pastorale, which was a feature of a celebration given 
on the Island of the Belvidere, near Ferrara. 

The ballet entertainment was fashionable; no great 
event was complete without it as a supplement. The 
visit of the Duke of Anjou (the future Henry III) to 
Cracow was the occasion of a fete whose historic im- 
portance was the discovery of a genius in ballet arrange- 
ment, Baltarazini, otherwise known as Beaujoyeulx. 



46 



THE DANCE 



Catherine de Medici sent for him to take charge of the 
choreographic entertainments of the French court, the 
Marshal de Brissac acting as intermediary. ''Baltara- 
zini dit Beaujoyeulx'' had his first great opportunity in 
1 58 1, on the occasion of the marriage of the Due de 
Joyeuse. Le Ballet Comique de la Reine was the desig- 
nation of the offering; it was an addition to the now 
growing Hst of tremendous successes. Full details are 




A Fourteenth -CENTURY Ball. 
After detail of an illuminated MS. in the Bibliotheque Nationale. 

recorded in the journal of one L'Estoile, and in UArt 
de la Danse by Jean Etienne Despreaux. To repeat 
them in full is neither necessary nor possible : the amiable 
L'Estoile in particular experiences all the delight of a 
simple soul surrounded by several days' proceedings of 
which not a single detail is anything less than amazing. 
The lords and ladies appeared in a fresh costume every 
day, a new practice of whose extravagance L'Estoile 
writes with a mixture of awe and disapproval. 

The story of Le Ballet Comique was the mixture of 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 47 

Old Testament story and mythology already familiar. 
Fountains, artificial fire and aquatic machines lent their 
several notes of richness and variety. Important from 
the point of view of the amateur of the ballet is a com- 
ment on the geometrical precision that governed the bal- 
let's groupings and corps movements: ''d'une rectitude 
qii' Archim'ede neut pas desavoue/' The true and mod- 
ern note of form in grouping had been struck, and the 
standard of exactness set that was to become the back- 
bone of the ballet of later centuries. As the first ar- 
tistically logical relation of dancing to the sentiment of 
the whole work had been effected in the "sacred repre- 
sentations'' of Italy, so Le Ballet Comique de la Reine 
seems to have been the first work of the kind to be pro- 
duced under a modern (which is to say ancient Greek) 
understanding of the laws of harmony of line. 

The performance lasted from ten o'clock in the evening 
until four in the morning. Estimates of its cost range 
from six hundred thousand to a million dollars (three 
to five million francs). Of tournaments, presents and 
numberless other items of the several days' celebration 
the cost is reckoned apart from that of producing Le 
Ballet Comique. Apart from lavishness, there is inter- 
est in the fact that queen and princesses participated. 
They represented nereids and naiads. 

England, meantime, was in nowise ignoring the ex- 
ample of Continental neighbours. Pantomimes she had 
under the names of "^mysteries," "dumb-shows" and 
"moralities" — religious, and melodramatic, and vari- 
ously proportioned mixtures of both. They figure in the 
history of the English drama, as a source of plots for 
the early playwright. Though the translation of ges- 
ture into word filled a want felt by a part of the people, 



48 THE DANCE 

it subtracted nothing from the popularity of the masque. 
Henry VIII was its patron, and occasionally took part in 
it. Elizabeth carried it on. Francis Bacon, with whom 
love of stage representation was a passion, wrote plots 
— and dialogue where it was needed. Charles I brought 
it to a climax of taste and opulence. Inigo Jones — of 
whose high merits as an artist evidences are extant — 
designed decorations. Ben Jonson was accustomed to 
write the book for important productions. A notable 
work of collaboration of the two, with the addition of 
Lawes, the musical composer, was a masque presented 
at Whitehall by the Inns of Court in 1633. The cost is 
stated as £21,000. Although a ballet was perhaps the 
principal feature of the production, its composer is not 
named in the records. England's failure to credit the 
original genius may or may not bear some relation to 
her sterility as a contributor to the dance. With sup- 
port, both sentimental and material, she has been lavish 
— in the wake of other nations' enthusiasms. Of inven- 
tion she has given nothing of consequence. We there- 
fore turn our attention again to France, where history 
was busy. 

Henry IV was of a happy disposition; the dance in 
his reign was happy in motive, and healthy in growth. 
To give time to its practice none was too high in station 
or serious in mind. Sully, the philosopher, profiting by 
training given him by the king's sister, played a part in 
one of the fetes. The journal of L'Estoile mentions the 
production of eighty new ballets during the twenty-one 
years of the reign. 

The nature of Louis XIII was taciturn; an influence 
that caused the ballet to oscillate between the sombre 
and the trivial. The monarch himself played 'The 








Seventeenth Century Court Dances 
Mr. John Murray Anderson and Miss Margaret Crawford 

The Tordion (i, 2) — The Pavane (3, 4, 5) 



To face page 48 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 49 

Demon of Fire" in La Delivrance de Renault, in 1617. 
Of Le Ballet de la Merlaison that he produced in 1635, 
he composed the dance music. 

A whim of this reign is to the credit of the Duke of 
Nemours. To contrive a choreographic composition 
''docile to his rheumatism/' he composed in 1630 a Ballet 
of the Gouty. Meantime the dance was becoming friv- 
olous, if not licentious. To rectify its shortcomings 
Richelieu applied himself — not to preaching damnations 
of dancing in general, but to the creation of an allegorical 
ballet of the sort he thought suitable. Quatre Mon- 
archies Chretiennes, played in 1635, is a result of his 
efforts ; "full of pageantry the most opulent and moral- 
ity the most orthodox," in the words of Robert Brussel. 

The regency of Anne of Austria developed nothing in 
particular; a delicate character enveloped the dance in 
conformity to the regent's disposition and taste. But 
distinct progress was not destined to take place until the 
reign of Louis XIV, founder of the national ballet acad- 
emy, perhaps the most helpful patron the dance ever 
had, and as devoutly enthusiastic an amateur performer 
as ever lived. He played prominent parts in ballet pan- 
tomimes to the number of twenty-six. 

The date of the founding of the school, UAcademie 
Nationale de Musique et de la Danse, is 1661. From 
that time, through several decades, developments follow 
with extraordinary rapidity, and in so many different 
directions that it is impossible to follow them consecu- 
tively. Great performers begin to appear ; artists whose 
work enraptures the public by grace of beauty alone, 
signifying that execution had been awakened. Miles. 
Prevost and Salle were contemporaries and rivals, each 
with a great and ardent supporting faction. Of the lat- 



50 



THE DANCE 



ter's personality, it is of interest that she was a friend 
of Locke, author of Human Understanding. Her pop- 
ularity is gauged by her pay for a single performance 
in London, namely, something over two hundred thou- 
sand francs. The amount probably includes the con- 
siderable quantity of gold and jewels thrown to the stage 



^'S^ 





Louis XIV (as "The Sun") and a Courtier (as "Night") in the 

Ballet of Night. 



during the performance, for enthusiasm appears to have 
reached the point of mania. This admiration was won 
without very rapid movement, Salle believing only in 
the majestic; or any high or very broad steps, which did 
not exist in the ballet in her time. To have stirred the 
public as she did without these resources argues a de- 
gree of grace and expressiveness less earthly than heav- 
enly. 

Yet her reputation was to be eclipsed by a girl who 
was studying during the very hours when Salle was 
gathering laurels. Camargo was her name. She was 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 51 

born in Brussels, daughter of a dancing master. To 
natural grace and health she added an inordinate fond- 
ness for dancing, and eager facility for learning its tech- 
nicalities. Parental vacillation and educational theories 
cripple many an artist's career at its beginning. But 
Camargo's father being a dancing teacher, there was 
just one thing for the child to do in the natural course 
of events, and that was to learn to dance. 

At the age of ten, her art attracted the attention of a 
patroness, and she was sent to Paris to study under Mile. 
Prevost. In the corps de ballet at the opera she bolted 
into public notice by joining impulse to accident. One 
Dumoulin, on a certain occasion, missed his musical cue 
for entrance to perform a solo. Mile. Camargo leaped 
from her place and executed the solo to the delight of 
the audience. Introduced at court, her triumph so af- 
fected Prevost that she discontinued her pupil's instruc- 
tion. It was no longer needed. Camargo's genius had 
carried her beyond the reach of jealousy, or even the ac- 
tive intrigue that her ex-teacher directed against her. 

Her matrimonial and other social ventures were con- 
ducted with such an air of candour, and were of such a 
diversity that they are, above all, amusing. She was a 
much-petted personage at court, and an esteemed friend 
of the king. In general she was known "as a model 
of charity, modesty and good conduct." She was given 
a maiden's funeral. 

Castil-Blaze writes of her: "She added to distinc- 
tion and fire of execution a bewitching gaiety that was 
all her own. Her figure was very favourable to her 
talent : hands, feet, limbs, stature, all were perfect. But 
her face, though expressive, was not remarkably beau- 
tiful. And, as in the case of the famous harlequin, 



52 THE DANCE 

Dominique, her gaiety was a gaiety of the stage only. 
In private Hfe she was sadness itself/' 

In a technical sense she may be regarded as the first 
modern. Her work comprised all that constituted the 
ballet up to her time ; to the resources that came to her as 
an artistic heritage she began a process of addition that 
was to be carried on by successors. She is credited with 
the invention of the entrechat, for instance; and here 
many readers will find themselves confronted by the need 
of some explanation of ballet technique as a means of 
intelligent discussion of the dancing of modern times. 
Before that chapter, however, it is not amiss to glance 
over the old dances from which the ballet, up to the 
foundation of the Academy in 1661, derived most of its 
steps. 

The Gavotte, the Minuet, the Pavane, the Saraband, 
the Tordion, the Bourree, the Passecaille, the Passepied, 
the Chaconne, the Volte, the Allemande, the Gaillarde, 
and the Courante — these were the dances whose meas- 
ures were trod by courtiers of the sixteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries. Among those who have been moved 
to study these old dances during the past few years to 
the end of reconstructing them, no one is more fortu- 
nately equipped for the task than the only resident of 
America who has applied himself seriously to the sub- 
ject, Mr. John Murray Anderson. He is at once a 
dancer, an educated man, and for years a devoted student 
of the social aspect of western Europe in the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries. A period of months that he 
recently spent in the choreographic libraries of Europe, 
and in joint study with others similarly engaged, has 
resulted in the opportunity to see in America a fine and 
true representation of the old court steps. With Miss 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 53 

Margaret Crawford, Mr. Anderson posed for the ac- 
companying photographs of the Gavotte, the Minuet, the 
Bourree, and the Tordion. The groupings were selected 
with view to indicating the character of each dance. 
Collectively they give a good idea of the school of formal- 
ity in which the French ballet was conceived, and from 
which it received its determining influences. 

From the beginnings of time, people who give enter- 
tainments have followed a practice of employing per- 
formers of dances characteristic of various peoples. 
With appropriate costume, the danses caracteristiques 
give a synopsis, or essence, of the picturesque aspect 
of the people the dancer represents. Sixteenth-century 
nobility availed itself of the entertainment value of these 
folk-dances, as Athens did in its golden days and as Lon- 
don and Newport do to-day. In such manner did French 
society gather its material for many of the dances that 
eventually became identified with the ballroom. 

The Gavotte is of such origin. A few generations of 
languid cultivation refined the life out of it, though it 
was at first a comparatively active dance. After drop- 
ping nearly into disuse it was revived and popularised 
by Marie Antoinette, for whose rendering of it Gluck 
composed music. After the Revolution, with its paralys- 
ing influence, the Gavotte was once again revived — and 
revised — by Gardel, premier danseiir of the Opera, in a 
composition based on music by Gretry. But this com- 
position was not of a kind for the execution of any but 
trained dancers of the stage, Gardel having made it a 
metier for the exploitation of his own capabilities. 
Among new elaborations the simple little jumping steps 
and the easy arabesque that distinguished the Gavotte 
of earlier days were lost. 



54 THE DANCE 

The Tordion is another dance of Uvely origin. Some- 
times it was made a vehicle for the grotesque, such as 
black-face comedy — let no one be surprised that the 
"coon comedian" of to-day is an ancient institution. It 
was stepped briskly, even in the stately environment of 
court. The position of the foot with the heel on the 
floor and the toe up was not adopted by the ballet, but 
is found in folk or ''character" dances in all parts of 
Europe. 

The Allemande also was a dance of movement; so was 
the Volte, In the former the man turns his partner by 
her raised hand ; in the costume of the time, the whirl is 
very effective. The Volte is supposed to be the imme- 
diate ancestor of the Walts. 

The Saraband came into France from Spain, where 
it was tremendously popular as la Zarahanda. It dates 
from the twelfth century, and was praised by Cervantes. 
Its character justifies the belief that it comes from Moor- 
ish origins. It is a solo dance making noble use of the 
arms, and is executed with a plastic relaxation of the 
body. A distinctly Oriental mannerism is its quick shift 
of the foot, just as it is placed on the floor, from the cus- 
tomary position of toeing out to a position of toeing in. 
The foot-work, moreover, has little more than slow 
glides. Its exotic qualities, nevertheless, are subordi- 
nate to its Occidental courtliness; like all the other 
dances of polite society, it conformed to the etiquette of 
its time and place, notwithstanding improprieties of 
which it had been guilty in earlier centuries. 

Marguerite de Valois was fond of the Bourree be- 
cause, according to tradition, she had an extraordinary 
natural endowment in the shape of feet and ankles. And 
the skipping step (related to the modern polka-step) 





Seventeenth Century Court Dances 

The Saraband (i) — The Allemand (3) — The other groups are from the Minuet 
— 6 and 5 (in that order) represent the Mirror figure in the Minuet de la Reine 



To face page 54 






The "Gavotte' 



To face page 55 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 5s 

of the Bourree necessitated the wearing of a shorter 
skirt than the mode of her day permitted for ordinary 
use. It never was a rigorously formulated composition, 
perhaps because it never became very popular at court. 
It contributed to the ballet the latter's useful pas de 
hourree, and continues as a diversion of the peasants 
of Auvergne, where it originated. 

The Passepied was one of a family known as les 
hranles, whose family characteristics are ill defined, de- 
spite the frequency with which the term is used by sev- 
enteenth-century writers. In England the word became 
**brawl." It was the Branle du Haut Barrois in which 
gentry costumed themselves as the shepherds and 
shepherdesses perpetuated by Watteau. Another, the 
Branle des Lavandieres, was based on pantomime of the 
operations of the laundress. In the Branle des Ermites, 
monk's dress was worn. In that of the Flambeaux, 
torches were passed to newly selected partners, as in a 
present-day cotillion figure; it was a fashionable figure 
at wedding celebrations. 

Tabourot's amiable hints for the elegant execution of 
branles probably are not directed at the court. But they 
are illuminating. "Talk gracefully, and be clean and 
well shod; be sure that the hose is straight, and that 
the slipper is clean ... do not use your handkerchief 
more than is necessary, but if you use it, be sure it is 
very clean.'' There is more; but, after all, why violate 
illusions ? 

The Chaconne, like the Saraband, came to France 
from across the Pyrenees. The dance of the Seises in 
the Seville Cathedral is said to be a Chacona unchanged 
from its sixteenth-century form. 

The Gaillarde is sometimes grouped with the Tordion, 



56 THE DANCE 

from which it differs in the respect that the theme of its 
steps is Httle jumps, while the Tordion is, for the most 
part, glided. One form of it, however, ''Si je faime ou 
non/' contained some energetic kicks. Indeed, it was 
of a character to exercise heart and muscle; excellence 
in some of its steps ''was looked upon as an accomplish- 
ment equal to riding or fencing." To that form of it 
known as "Baisons-nous Belle'' was attached interest 
of another variety, in the shape of kisses exchanged be- 
tween partners. ''A pleasant variation," comments the 
venerable Thoinet-Arbeau. A variation employed to 
prevent monotony in some of the other dances as well, 
among them the early Gavotte, 

The Courante was one of the more formal dances, 
never having been popular even in its origin. It was 
the Courante that was favoured by Louis XIV, during 
his many years of study under a dancing master. He is 
credited, before he was overtaken by the demon of adi- 
posity, with having executed the Courante better than 
any one else of his time. In style it has been compared 
to the Seguidillas (q. v.) of Spain. 

Of all, the dances most typical of the formality of the 
most formal society western civilisation has produced 
are the Minuet and the Pavane. Both might be char- 
acterised as variations of deep bows and curtsies. In 
the Pavane photographs it will be noted that instead of 
taking hold of her partner's hand, the lady rests her 
hand on the back of his. 

Hernando Cortez is said to have composed the Pavane 
(Spanish Pavana) and introduced it in the court of his 
land on returning from America. If so, he was a solemn 
person, as well as dignified; to the imposing grace of 
majesty the dance joins the aloof grandeur of a ritual. 



MIDDLE AGES AND RENAISSANCE 57 

These qualities gave to it the office of opening great court 
functions. Brocades and armour and swords prom- 
enaded very slowly around the room, each couple mak- 
ing its reverence to the monarchs before proceeding to 
the steps of the dance. These were few, simple, and 
slow; there were many curtsies, retreats and advances, 
during which last the gentleman led the lady by the up- 
raised hand, while following her. Poses and groups 
were held, statue-like, for a space of time that allowed 
them to impress themselves on the vision. So fond was 
Elizabeth of England of the Pavane (in writings of 
her land and period spelled Pavin and otherwise) that 
it was more than whispered that excellence in its per- 
formance was more valued than statesmanship as a basis 
of political favour. 

The Minuefs formality was graded. Le Menuet du 
Dauphin, le Menuet de la Reine, le Menuet d' Exaudet 
and le Menuet de la Cour were its four species, the 
stateliness increasing in the sequence mentioned. The 
accompanying Minuet photographs of Mr. Anderson and 
Miss Crawford are of the form de la Reine. The "mir- 
ror" figure is perhaps its most salient feature — a pretty 
bit of expression accompanying an interlacement of arms 
whose composition comes as a climax to strikingly in- 
genious and gracious arm movements. 

The popularity of the Minuet, in its various forms, 
was practically unlimited; lonely and cheerless indeed 
must have been the social life of the man who did not 
dance. After the decline of the Pavane it continued as 
an inseparable adjunct of gatherings of all degrees of 
conventionality within the scope of a polite mode of liv- 
ing. At court balls, at the romping Christmas parties 
of English country places; in the remote homes of Vir- 



58 THE DANCE 

ginia planters, at governor-generals' receptions, in the 
palaces of intendants in the far North it saluted, made 
coquetry with fan and eye, incarnated in gallant fig- 
ures the brave and reverent spirit of chivalry. Pic- 
tures represent its performance in home surroundings 
during daylight; slight pretext seems to have served as 
occasion for its performance. In connection with this 
popularity it must be remembered that, even in its sim- 
pler forms, so much as a passable execution of the Min- 
uet was far from easy to acquire. 

Let it be understood that the grand ballet of to-day did 
not spring full-grown from the dances above enum- 
erated. Some of their forms continued unchanged 
through years of academic influence. Present-day ''ele- 
vation,'' as scope of high and low level is called, the great 
leaps, great turns, and, in short, most of the dazzling 
elements of to-day's ballet are the accumulated contribu- 
tion of individual artists from time to time. Taglioni, 
of the middle nineteenth century, is the last to add nota- 
bly to the classic ballet's alphabet of steps. It is not 
unsafe to say that the next few years will see its range 
increased : the Russians, avid for new things, have ran- 
sacked Egyptian carvings and Greek vases. Trained to 
perfection in the technique and philosophy of their art, 
they are incorporating intelligently the newly rediscov- 
ered with the long familiar. But a concrete idea of 
their relation to the art, or of the art itself, cannot be 
had without some acquaintance with its actual mechan- 
ics ; it is time to consider the salient steps on which most 
Occidental dancing is based, and which the ballet has 
reduced to perfect definition. 



CHAPTER IV 

A GLANCE AT THE BALLET's TECHNIQUE 

THE name of Camargo, which arose in the first half 
of the eighteenth century, may be taken as the 
milestone that marks the progress of dancing into 
its modern development. Predecessors had brought to it 
pleasing execution and a good spirit; Camargo appears 
to have surpassed them in both qualities, and, in addi- 
tion, to have added immensely to the art's scope both of 
expression and of technique. Her relation to the dan- 
cing of her time has been profoundly studied by Mme. 
Genee, whose fascinating programme of re-creations is 
the result. After the work attributed to Salle and 
Prevost, that of the re-created Camargo shows a very 
striking emancipation from former limitations. Salle 
and Prevost, charmingly graceful, consummately skil- 
ful, performed their Dresden-china steps evenly, coolly, 
in full conformity to the fastidious etiquette of the 
aristocracy of their day. Camargo, without bruising 
a petal of the hot-house flower that was her artistic in- 
heritance, first freed it from a fungus of affectation that 
others had mistaken for the bloom of daintiness. Then 
she arranged it to show the play of light and shade, to 
make it surprising — in short, to make it a vehicle of 
interpretation. 

The material at her disposal, as noted before, was 
limited. To her advantage in "elevation,'' she replaced 
high-heeled shoes with ballet slippers; she was the first, 

59 



6o THE DANCE 

since antiquity, to dance on the toes. Nevertheless her 
changes of level were not exciting; of big leaps she had 
none. The day of vivid pirouettes was yet to dawn. 
Her most extended step was a little hallone. Her entre- 
chat was almost the only step that raised both her feet 
distinctly off the floor; it, with petit s hattements, gave 
brilliancy but nothing of grandeur. Hers was a dance 
of simple and little steps. But they were composed, 
those steps, with appreciation of the value of contrast. 
By contrast, movement was made long or short in effect. 
Movements soft and crisp were juxtaposed. We may 
believe that Camargo's knowledge of composition com- 
pensated for the meagre step-vocabulary of her day; that 
she commanded cumulative interest, surprise, and cli- 
max. In short, that she produced an expression ; limited 
to the lyrical, but none the less real. 

That there may be no risk of misunderstanding the 
present use of the word "expression,'' let it be agreed 
that the word here has the same application that it has 
in relation to instrumental music; also let it be agreed 
emphatically that it has nothing to do with the imitation 
of nature. Wagner makes a composition of tones por- 
tray the attributes of heroes and gods. Grieg's gnomes 
are of the same tissue: suggested attributes as distin- 
guished from specified facts of the concrete. Broadly, 
such suggestion is called music. For present clearness 
let it be known as music of the ear. Because, the very 
same mental sensations produced by rhythm and sound 
variously juxtaposed and combined, acting through the 
medium of hearing, are susceptible of stimulation by 
means of rhythm and line, in suitable juxtapositions and 
combinations, acting through the medium of vision. It 
follows that dancing, in effect, is music of the eye. The 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 61 

familiar musical resources serve both choreographer 
and composer impartially. As will be understood be- 
fore the reading of this chapter is completed, the equiva- 
lent of long and short notes is found in steps of varying 
length; musical phrases are, to the mind, the same as 
step-combinations, or enchainements ; argument toward 
expression of motive is as possible to the silent music 
as to music of the ear. Indeed the values of the several 
orchestral instruments have their parallels in steps; the 
light staccato of the clarinet is no more playful than are 
certain delicate steps executed siir les pointes, nor is the 
blare of brass more stirring than the noble renverse. 
The scope of expression, in short, that is attainable by 
the orchestra is identical with that within range of pure 
dancing — dancing without pantomime. Add panto- 
mime, and in effect you add to your music the explana- 
tory accompaniment of words. Broadly, music is senti- 
ment, while the words of a song are supplementary 
description. In the ballet, the dance, as such, is the 
sentiment (or its representation), the pantomime the 
accompanying description. 

Added expression in this musical sense was among 
Camargo's contribution to the art, definitely restoring to 
it a quality it had held in a grasp at best precarious since 
the passing of the glory of Athens. Belief in panto- 
mime rises and recedes from one decade to another. 
But purely orchestral or aesthetic expression continues at 
all times (with interruptions) as the fundamental intent 
of the classic French and Italian ballets. To demand 
that the figures in a composition conceived in this idea 
should act and look like the people of every-day life, 
owing to the mere coincidence of their being human be- 
ings, would be like asking the composer of Pagliacci to 



62 THE DANCE 

rewrite his score to include the sound of squeaking 
wheels, because of the latter's pertinence to the wagon of 
the stroUing players represented in the opera. The func- 
tion of the composer of the opera is to suggest by such 
tonal symbols as have been found effective, the various 
emotions undergone by his characters. Identically, the 
function of the ballet-master is to suggest by the count- 
less combinations of line — majestic and playful, severe 
and gracious — and by the infinite variety of movements 
and postures, the emotions he would arouse in the spec- 
tators of his work. At his disposal he has a number 
of plastic, sentient and sympathetic figures, trained to 
movements of grace. They are the instruments of his 
orchestra, the paint on his palette. That they also are 
human beings is absolutely a coincidence and beside the 
point. 

Pantomime, to be sure, is carried to a high develop- 
ment in both French and Italian academies ; they present 
mimo-dramas calling for practically unlimited scope of 
expression. Pantomime they added to the dance with- 
out departure from the ballet's basic intent. Both 
schools well know that the introduction of one pose or 
gesture imitating an act of human life, automatically 
throws the work into another category; that which was 
purely interpretative mural decoration verges toward the 
story-telling picture. 

The argument is put rather insistently because of the 
periodical complaint that the ballet ''looks artificial.'' 
"In real life," people say, ''you never see hands held as 
they are held in the ballet/' Mother of all the muses, 
why should they be? In real life hands are doctoring 
fountain pens, hewing wood and drawing water, reach- 
ing out for things ; in real life hands are concerned with 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 63 

their practical occupation, and quite disregardful of their 
grace or expression while so engaged. Whereas the 
ballet uses hands as the vehicle for lines of grace, exalta- 
tion, vivacity, or whatever emotion you will, expressed 
in terms of the abstract. It is the same in regard to 
work on the toe : in real life people have no occasion to 
walk on the tip ends of their feet, because as a means of 
locomotion it is inconvenient. The ballet's use of it is 
not based on a belief in the minds of ballet-masters that 
it is a fashion either in polite society or among nymphs 
of the primeval forest. The position *'on the point" 
makes possible an agreeable change in elevation, and can 
instantaneously eliminate the appearance of avoirdupois. 
The ballet art is a convention, strictly; the figures in it 
are changing units of a moving design, and not people. 
A ballerina does not ask, "How do I look in this pose ?'' 
She asks, "What kind of a line does this pose make?'' 

Of late years the classic ballet has suffered from pub- 
lic indifference. Doubtless this has been due in part to 
an insufficiency of competent performers; a great work 
requires great execution, and the difficulties created by 
the ballet's ideals are tremendous. But failure on the 
part of the public to consider the ballet's intent has cer- 
tainly contributed to an unsatisfactory state of its af- 
fairs. 

A general acquaintance with the individual steps adds 
in various ways to the spectator's enjoyment. Relieved 
of effort to decipher a dancer's means and methods, 
he who understands the mechanics of the steps can 
surrender himself to a luxuriance in their grace of 
execution, and be the more susceptible to the hypnotic 
charm of the rhythmic movement playing upon his 
eye. To him who has taken the trouble to learn some 



64 THE DANCE 

of the elemental theories, that which was once a be- 
wildering maze of movement, which he mentally scram- 
bled to follow, becomes an ordered and deliberate se- 
quence, whose argument he follows with ease ; instead of 
a kaleidoscope, he sees phrasing, repetition, and progress 
of interest, theme, enrichment and climax. With bits 
of special virtuosity he is instantly gratified; shortcom- 
ings he instantly detects. To communicate his observa- 
tions he has a vocabulary of specific expression; and 
there is satisfaction in that, for a ballet performance is 
just as fruitful a subject of controversy among its con- 
noisseurs as a new novel among its readers. Further- 
more, the need of a general power of expression as an 
essential to the betterment of American choreographic 
conditions is self-evident. 

While the ensuing analysis of ballet steps is far from 
complete from the point of view of the academy, it should 
give the reader a comprehension of the steps that make 
an impression on the layman's eye. The material that 
follows is selected with that end in view. Some descrip- 
tion of simple fundamentals, though not in themselves 
"showy," is included in order to facilitate analysis of the 
great steps and turns. Moreover, since character dan- 
cing includes nothing of technical note that is not also 
used in the ballet, it is confidently hoped that the sub- 
joined analysis will serve as a useful lens through which 
to look at dancing of all kinds. 

Those whose interest in the subject leads them to seek 
a more complete knowledge are referred to Zorn, Gram- 
mar of the Art of Dancing; by means of his choreo- 
graphic stenography he goes into sub-variations of bal- 
let steps with the utmost exactness. Naturally a course 
of instruction under a good ballet teacher is best of all ; 





Mme. Adeline Genee, and M. Alexander Volinine 

Ballet, Robert le Diable Butterfly Dance 

Pierrot and Columbine 



To face page 64 




gSi ^^m^ 





Photos by Mishkin, N. Y. 

Mme. Genee in Historical Re-creations and M. Volinine 
Salle (i) — The Waltz (2) — Camargo (3) — Guimard (4) 



To face page 65 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 65 

theory is best understood by its application. And execu- 
tion, it should go without saying, is acquired only by 
long practice under expert and watchful eyes. 

Before considering actual movements, it must be borne 
in mind that separately they are incomplete. Like tones 
that unite to form chords of music, each in itself may 
seem lacking in richness. Interdependence of succes- 
sive parts is more marked in the classic ballet than in 
any other great school of choreography. The dance of 
the Moor is a series of statues, each self-sufficient. Of 
the ballet movements, almost the reverse is true. Their 
magic comes of the flow of one unit into another. 

As France is the mother and nurse of the ballet, it 
follows that French is its language. Few of the terms 
translate successfully. To rename the movements would 
be superfluous — and in practical use, worse; for a big 
corps de ballet is often a gathering from many nations. 
Being explicit and sufficient, the French terms are the 
accepted designation of the steps in all lands where the 
ballet is danced. 

To describe steps with precision, it is necessary to use 
a system of choro-stenography not easily learned, or to 
refer to positions of the feet. The latter is the usual 
method, and long usage proves its adequacy. The fol- 
lowing arbitrary designation of positions of the feet has 
long been standard wherever Occidental dancing is 
taught : 

Simple positions one to five, inclusive, are the funda- 
mentals, which are modified in a great variety of ways. 
Figures 6 and 7 represent instances of such modifica- 
tion. 

The weight may be upon both feet, or either. 

In third, fourth and fifth positions : speaking of either 



66 



THE DANCE 




3 4 5 6 7 

Fundamental Positions of the Feet. 
Fig. I, first position; 2, second position; 3, third position; 4, fourth 
position; 5, fifth position; 6, open fourth position; 7, crossed fourth 
position. 

foot (say the right) it is said to be in anterior or pos- 
terior third, fourth or fifth position. 

Second and fourth positions are defined as closed or 
amplified, according as the feet are separated by the 
length of a foot, or more. 

The positions, unless otherwise specified, indicate both 
feet on the floor. But the second, third and fourth posi- 
tions sometimes relate to positions in which one foot is 
raised; for instance, right foot in raised second posi- 
tion. 

The same designations apply whether the feet be flat 
on the floor, on the ball, on the point, or a composite of 
these : as for instance, second position, right foot on the 
point, left foot flat, etc. 

Heights are definitely divided; ankle, calf and knee 
serve as the measures. But as the subjoined explana- 
tions are aided by diagrams, the terms to measure 
heights may be disregarded for the sake of simplicity. 
Likewise we need not go into the enumeration and 
names of crossed positions and other complications. 
The five fundamental positions, however, are important 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 67 

and should be memorised. Apart from their importance 
in any discussion of ballet work, familiarity with them 
greatly aids the acquisition of ballroom dances. (The 
latter place the feet at an angle of 45° to the line in 
which the dancer's body faces, instead of 90°, the form 
of the French-Italian ballet.) 

The school of the ballet also defines the positions of 
the arms, in the same manner. They need not be mem- 
orised as a preliminary to reading this chapter ; but they 
are interesting as a matter of record of the limitations 
of the classic school, and as a measure of the distance 
to which the Russians have departed in the direction of 
freedom of arm movement. 

8 9 10 II 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 

Positions of the Arms. 

Figure 8, arms in repose, sustained ; 9, extended ; 10, rounded in front of 
the chest; 11, rounded above the head; 12, high and open; 13, a la 
lyre; 14, on the hips ; 15, 16, one arm high, one^ extended ; 18, one 
arm rounded in front of the chest, one open horizontal; 17, 19, one 
arm high, one on the hip. 

Steps, which are now to be considered, fall naturally 
into the classes of gliding, heating, turning and jumping. 
Each class ranges from simplicity to more or less com- 
plexity, and certain steps have a composite character, 
partaking of the nature of more than one of the above 
general classes. 

Dancers distinguish between a step and a temps, 
whose relation to each other is that between a word and 
a syllable. A temps is a single movement. By defini- 



68 THE DANCE 

tion, a step must effect a transfer of weight; subject to 
that definition, a single movement may be a step. 

The simple gliding step is the pas glisse. It is exe- 
cuted by gliding the foot along the floor. It may move 
in any direction. Used as indicated in figures 20, 21 
and 22, the step becomes a glissade. 





20 21 22 

"Glissade/' 

The essential gliding feature of the step is indicated in the movement of 
the left foot along the floor, figure 21. 



A chasse, in effect, "chases" one foot from its place 
by means of a touch from the other. For instance: 
the feet are in second position, weight on the right foot ; 
bring the left foot sharply up to this position behind the 
right foot; at the instant of contact, let the right foot 
glide sharply out to second position on the right side. 
The step also may be executed toward the front or 
toward the rear. It keeps both feet on the floor. 

Executing a series of chassis: simple chasses com- 
mence the step, each repetition, with the same foot. 
Alternating chasses are begun with each foot in 
turn. 

A coupe is analogous to a chasse; but the foot that 
is displaced leaves the floor and goes to more or less 
height in the air. Both coupe and chasse give an impres- 
sion of one foot kicking the other out of place. 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 69 

/ 




23 24 

"Assemble." 
See figure 26. 

An assemble, starting with the feet in fifth position, 
effects a reversal of their position. Example (see dia- 
gram) : the left foot is behind. A little jump upward 
raises both feet from the floor. Kick out with the left 
foot to the left, bring it back to fifth position in front of 
the right foot, at the moment of alighting. The right 
foot, instead of the left, will degage, or "wing out," in 
the next step, if the step is repeated. 

A changement is similar to an assemble; its difference 
is in the fact that it causes both feet to "beat." 










26 27 

"Assemble.-" "Changement." 

Each diagram shows two performances of its step. Both steps take both 
feet off the floor. In the assemble, one foot remains passive. In 
the changement, both are active. 

A releve consists of a simultaneous (a) rise to the ball 
or point of the supporting foot, while the active foot is 
raised to the height (usually) of the knee of the sup- 



70 THE DANCE 

porting leg. The active foot usually is kept close to the- 
supporting leg. 

This step furnishes an interesting example of the 
changes wrought by the Russians. The classic turn- 
out of the foot confines the movement of the active leg 
to a plane cutting the performer laterally; i. e., as the 
classic performer advances en relevant toward the spec- 
tator, the legs' movements are seen to have their exten- 
sion out to the sides. Whereas the Russian '^toes out" 
(with exceptions) at a much smaller angle. His knees 
therefore may rise in front of him; in which case the 
step, as seen by the spectator, is most effective while the 
performer crosses the stage from side to side. It is 
made the thematic step of some of the new Russian 
dance-poems of Greek nature. It is executed sharply, 
lightly. 

An echappe moves the feet from closed to second 
position by means of moving both feet simultaneously 
outward. 




30 31 32 

Essentials: both feet off the floor simultaneously, and receipt of the 
descending weight on one foot. 

The jete is a step that is simple in principle, at the same 
time subject to so wide a range of use that it creates 
the most varied effects. Essentially, it is the step that 
is used in running. 

The jete also may be executed to the side — a cote. 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 71 

From its use in that manner it is easy to understand its 
employment as a means of turning in the air : i. e., with 
both feet off the floor. The jete en tournant is one of 
the much-used means of producing an effect of big, easy 
sweep; it lends itself to the embellishment of any one of 
several beating steps — pas battus; or others, yet to be 
described. 






33 34 35 

"Jete" to the Side. 

Of the "beating" type of step, the fundamental is the 
battement: a beating movement of the free leg, the sup- 
porting leg remaining stationary. The accent is not on 
the up-stroke, as in a kick, but sharply on the down- 
stroke. The beats may be made from side, front, or 
(less usually) back. The foot may be raised to the 
height of the head (though it is not often done), to hori- 
zontal, to the height of the knee, or the distance of a 
foot's length away from the supporting leg. Executed 
with a straight knee, the movement is a grand battement. 
A petit battement is action of the lower leg only, working 
from the knee as a stationary pivot, while the foot strikes 
the supporting ankle, calf, or knee. It is a movement 
designed for brilliancy, and should be executed rapidly. 
With practice it can be carried to such a degree of speed 
that the active foot seems to shimmer. It is the basic 
step of Scotch dances. Modified to allow the sole of the 



72 THE DANCE 

active foot to touch the floor, it provides the shuffle-step 
of the Irish Jigs and Reels. Petits hattements, it should 
be added, are usually employed in a sequence of several 
in succession. 





38 

"Battements." 
Petit battementj :^y. Grand battement, 38. 

Correctly speaking, a battement does not constitute a 
step, but a temps. 

The cabriole is a development of the battement. In 
the latter, only one leg is active ; it leaves the supporting 
leg, and rejoins it. The cabriole is executed with both 
feet in the air; both legs act in the beating movement, 
rapidly separating and coming together, but not cross- 
ing. 

A further development of the same theme brings us 
to the gem which, of the ballet's entire collection, is the 
most dazzling : the entrechat. Instead of merely bring- 
ing the legs together, as in the cabriole, it uses a jump 
as the occasion for repeatedly crossing the feet. Cleanly 
done, it is as the sparkle of a humming-bird. 

The word is derived from the Italian intrecciare, to 
weave or braid. The French compound it with numer- 
als, to indicate the number of times the feet cross: as, 
entrechat-quatre, entrechat-six, entrechat-huit. The 
number includes the movements of each foot; an entre- 
chat-huit implies four crossings. Prodigious stories are 
told about the number of beats that various artists have 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 73 



accomplished in their entrechat. It forms an attractive 
centre for choreographic myths. In general, the num- 
ber of beats said to have been accomplished by a given 
artist is in direct ratio to the number of years that artist 
has been dead. In reality there is small object in going 
beyond an entrechat-six; the three crossings (always 
assuming performance by a master of the technique) are 
quite sufficient to prove that the law of gravity has ceased 
to exist. When their staccato twinkle is added as a fin- 





39 



42 



40 41 

Steps of the "Battement" Type. 
Changement, 39; entrechat-quatre, 40; brise dessus, 41; brise dessous, 42. 
In the brise dessus, the active foot beats in front of the passive foot; 
in the brise dessous, behind it. 

ish to the long pendulum swing of a big glissade, or a 
long jete en tournant, the effect is .hat of a swift pis- 
zicato following a long-sustained note — always surpris- 
ing, always merry. 

The hrise is of the category of movements executed 
while both feet are off the floor. It is so closely related 
to the entrechat-quatre that the layman who can dis- 
tinguish between the two, during the speed of perform- 
ance, may conscientiously congratulate himself on having 
developed a passably quick and sure eye. The differ- 
ence between the two lies in this : that in the hrise only 
one foot really "beats'*; the other makes only a slight 
complementary or counter-movement. Starting as it 



74 THE DANCE 

does in an open position, it lends itself to the embellish- 
ment of broad leaps. 

The ballone is, in a broad sense, related to the beating 
steps; its accent, however, is on the up-stroke, which 
makes it a kick. Start in third position; plie^ slightly 
(as preparation) ; jump, and simultaneously kick for- 
ward, bending the knee in raising the leg, straightening 
it when it has reached the necessary height ; usually the 
ballone leads into another step. 

(As this description is at variance with that of two 
eminent choreographic writers, it should be added that 
it is made from the step as demonstrated and explained 
by Sr. Luigi Albertieri, ballet-master of the Century 
Opera Company, an unquestioned authority; his tradi- 
tions are those of La Scala, and of Sr. E. Cecchetti. 
Mile. Louise La Gai, former pupil of Leo Staats, one- 
time ballet-master of FOpera, demonstrates the step in 
the same manner.) 

A phrase of steps (enchainement) is rarely made up 
of big or difficult steps exclusively; the value of the lat- 
ter would soon be lost in monotony were they not con- 
trasted with work of a simpler nature. The pas de 
hourree and the pas de Basque are among the little steps 
useful in furnishing such contrasts, in giving the dancer 
a renewed equilibrium, and in the capacity of connecting 
links between other steps. They are like prepositions 
in a sentence — insufficient in themselves, but none the 
less indispensable. 

The pas de hourree (the name is taken from an old 
French dance) is essentially the familiar polka-step late 
of the ballroom, with varied applications. Forward, 
backward or to the side, it ''covers stage'' — or gives the 
dancer progress in a given direction. It furnishes a 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 75 

means of turning, or preserving the continuity of a dance 
while the performer keeps his place. Always it is use- 
ful as a filler when interest is to be directed away from 
the foot-work — in such case, for instance, as when the 
hands have important pantomime. 

The pas de Basque is of similar value, but commits the 
dancer to a swinging movement from side to side. Like 
the pas de bourree it is an alternating step, with one foot 
on the floor all the time, and executed without much 
''elevation"-—!, e., variety of level. It runs through 
many o£ the dances of Spain, and presumably is, as its 
name suggests, a native of the Basque provinces. Prob- 
ably, too, it is a remote ancestor of the Waltz. 




In contrast to the sharp, dry quality of the beating 
steps is the fluid, swinging fouette. Its many variations 
conform to the principles indicated in the diagram fig- 
ures 43 to 46. 

The word ''fouette'' means literally, whip; the move- 
ment, a swing with a snap at the finish, is well named. 
A relaxed manner of execution gives it a feeling of 



76 



THE DANCE 



pliancy, while lightness is preserved by the smart termi- 
nation. 

Start with a plie of both knees, for preparation; 
sharply lift the active leg sidewise to horizontal (i. e., 
raised second position) ; snap the lower leg back, in a 
movement curving downward, to the crossed leg posi- 
tion in figure 46. There it is prepared to enter into 
another step, or to lead to an arabesque, or to continue 





Start of a "Fouette Pirouette." 
Figures 47-50 inclusive serve also to describe a developpe. 

to finish in third or fifth position of the feet. The body 
has remained facing the spectator. 

Now, let it be understood that a pirouette is a turn, or 
spin, on one foot only, or else in the air. One species of 
pirouette is made in conjunction with the fouette, the 
body being permitted to turn with the impulse of the 
leg's backward sweep. The making of a pirouette, how- 
ever, requires its own preparations, as shown in the first 
four figures of the diagram. In figure 47 the legs are 
plies. Figures 48, 49 and 50 represent a developpe, 
or unfolding — a device of frequent use in the pres- 
ent conditions, namely, the need of bringing the active 
leg to horizontal in preparation for a step. The exten- 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 77 

sion of the arms as indicated enables them to give a 
vigourous start to the revolving movement ; the leg, by a 
sharp sweep "outward/' contributes to the same impulse. 
The turn started, the fouette is executed as it proceeds. 
The free foot drops to position behind the supporting 
leg. But note that as the body continues turning, the 
foot changes from position behind to position in front; 
very simple, in performance very effective — and until 




51 



52 



54 



53 

"Fouette Pirouette," Continued. 
Right leg sweeps "out" in horizontal plane (51) continuing as in 52, 
turning the body with its revolution. As the body completes the 
turn from 52 to 53, the right foot is brought to crossed position in 
front of the ankle. 

understood, puzzling in its illusion of winding up and 
unwinding. It is permissible, in the position of figure 
52, to drop to the heel of the supporting foot, for a mo- 
mentary renewal of equilibrium; but there is merit in 
going through without that aid. The position at finish 
leaves the dancer prepared to repeat the tour, which can 
be done an indefinite number of times in succession; to 
continue into an arabesque (figures 55, 56) ; or to enter 
a different step. 

Among the variations of the above typical fouette 
pirouette is its execution '*in" instead of "out": that is, 
to sweep the active leg across in front of the supporting 



78 



THE DANCE 



leg, to start the turn, instead of raising it out to the side. 
Again using the left foot as support, the turn of the 
body is now toward the left, instead of toward the right 
as when the step is executed ''out." The active foot 
arrives at its position of crossing the supporting leg when 
it has described a half-circle. 

Tradition makes the fouette pirouette a step for men, 
although it is not intrinsically less feminine than any 
other of the great steps. Nevertheless, tradition is often 
a thing to respect. So, a fouette pirouette performed by 





55 56 

Optional Finish of a "Fouette Pirouette.' 
Continues (55) into arabesque (56). 



a woman is customarily called a rond de jambe tour. 
Mile. Zambeli, the premiere of TOpera in Paris, has on 
occasion performed a succession of thirty-two such turns 
in a steadily accelerating tempo. The result, instead of 
monotony, is a cumulative excitement little short of over- 
powering. 

The fouette pirouette leads into the subject of pirou- 
ettes in general. By their common definition, they are 
turns made on one supporting foot only, or without sup- 
port (i. e., turns in the air). The definition serves to 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 79 



distinguish a true pirouette from a turn made by means 
of alternating steps, such as a pas hourree turn. 

The purest example of pirouette is that performed *'on 
the crossed ankle'' — sur le cou-de-pied. (Figures 57 
to 61.) This turn is made without the aid of im- 
pulse from either leg after the free foot goes into its 
position, in distinction from the fouette pirouette, for 
instance, in which the active leg's movement in the air 
furnishes the motive power by which the body is turned. 

The pirouette sur le cou-de-pied here diagrammed is 




57 58 59 60 

The "Pirouette Sur le Cou-de-pied." 
Figures 57, 58, 59, preparation; 60 represents the completion 
and the position the feet have occupied during the act 
61, finish. 



the turn, 
turning ; 



according to the specifications of Herr Otto Stoige, bal- 
let-master and dancing teacher at the University of 
Konigsberg, as quoted by Zorn. Raise the arms and 
the active leg (figure 58). Drop the active foot to ante- 
rior fourth position (figure 59), plie, and at the same 
time dispose the arms to give the twisting impulse to the 
body. The same impulse is aided by the sharp straight- 
ening of the left leg, coming into position as support. 
The arms drop (figure 60) as the free foot is placed sur 
le cou-de-pied of the supporting leg. Comparing the 
finish (figure 61) with figure 57, it is seen that the feet 



8o 



THE DANCE 



have resumed third position but exchanged places. In 
making the turn, the face is turned away from the spec- 
tator as short a time as possible. 

The ability to do a double turn in this form is not 
rare, and a few men make it triple. The Prussian Stull- 
mueller brought it to seven revolutions. An amusing 
conventionality of gender in pirouettes makes it man's 
prerogative to do the pirouette en Vair — i. e., with 
both feet off the floor. This too is doubled by some of 
the men now dancing: Leo Staats, formerly of TOpera 
in Paris, is said to triple it ! 






6z 64 

Various "Pirouettes." 
A la seconde, -60 ; en attitude, 61 ; en arabesque, -€2-. 

A pirouette of this sort is one of the few pas that have 
a value independent of what precedes and follows; it is 
a beautiful thing by itself. In combination it gives a 
feeling of ecstasy; or, in other conditions, of happy ec- 
centricity. A few years ago Angelo Romeo used it as 
the theme of his solo in a Ballet of Birds (under Fred 
Thompson's management, the New York Hippodrome 
staged some real ballets) . As King of the Birds, Romeo 
gave his part a gallantry at once amusing and brilliant 
by the reiteration of double pirouettes as a refrain. 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 81 

Between the two extremes of fouette pirouette and 
pirouette sur le cou-de-pied lie such a variety of manners 
of turning that experts fail to agree on any definition of 
the word ''pirouette,'' more explicit than the one already 
given. A half-turn sur le cou-de-pied, pas de bour- 
ree, and complete the turn with a fouette: — there, 
for instance, is a turn that is a pirouette or not, accord- 
ing to arbitrary definition. There are half as many sub- 
varieties of pirouette and other turns as there are solo 
dancers. Turns of mixed type, partaking of the natures 
of both pure pirouette and the rond de jainbe character 
of movement, are known collectively as pirouettes com- 
posies. 

A rond de jambe, it should be explained parenthetic- 
ally, is a circle described by the foot. A grand rond de 
jambe is a circle (in any plane) described by the straight 
leg. A petit rond de jambe is made by the lower leg, 
working from a stationary knee as pivot. Cf. grands 
and petits battements. 

As the pirouette sur le cou-de-pied has its virtue of 
sparkle, its cousin the renverse is endowed with a species 
of bewildering, bacchanalian ecstasy. Words and dia- 
grams fail to convey an impression of its qualities; but 
analysis of its mechanics is worth while, in order that it 
may be recognised when seen, and not allowed to pass 
without yielding its full and due pleasure to him who 
sees it. 

Preceding the position indicated in figure 65, the 
dancer, placing his weight on the left foot, has raised 
the right foot in a developpe forward, and around on a 
horizontal plane "outward.'' Figure 65 shows the right 
foot at a point that may be conveniently designated as 
the quarter-circle. In figure 66 the right foot continues 



82 



THE DANCE 



to sweep back, and the body begins to lean forward — or 
away from the active leg. This lean of the body has be- 
come more pronounced in figure 67, in which the active 
foot has reached the three-quarter circle. Note the 
sweep of the left hand accelerating the movement of the 
turn, and its continuance through the remaining figures. 




65 (^ 

Beginning of the "Renverse." 
A developpe has preceded the position in figure 65, as indicated in verti- 
cal dotted Hne. The body begins to turn as the active foot completes 
a half-circle (66). In 67, note that the body leans forward. 



Up to the position in figure 68 the body has leaned 
forward — or in other words, has been chest down. In 
figure 69 it is seen chest up. Figure 68 is the inter- 
mediate position. In performance the turn-over takes 
place so quickly that only a trained eye sees just when it 
is done. 

The right foot touches the floor at the point of com- 
pleting the half-circle. The body continues leaning 
back, straightening up in figure 70 after describing a 
round body-sweep started in figure 69. Figure 70 finds 
the weight on the right foot ; the left is raised on the first 
temps of a pas de hourree, very quick, which brings the 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 83 

feet to fifth position as in figure 71. The right-hand- 
sweep upward, meantime, has been continuous. 

Another variation of the pirouette is based on the 
rond de jambe described on a previous page. The rond 
de jambe pirouette is executed with the aid and embel- 
Hshment of a horizontal leg. It usually starts with a 
developpe, like the fouette tour. A pirouette a la seconde 




69 70 

The "Renverse" Concluded. 
Figures 68 and 6g trace the over-turning of the body, without interrup- 
tion to the movement of rotation. A rapid pas de bourree intervenes 
between 70 and 71. 



is so called by reason of the active foot's continuance in 
raised second position. If the heel is touched at the 
half-circles for equilibrium, the turns can be continued 
ad libitum. Still another tour is the pirouette en ara- 
besque, the pose being entered into (usually) on comple- 
tion of a half-circle of a ro7i.d de jambe tour, the revolu- 
tion being kept continuous while the necessary changes 
are made in the position of the body. A turn in the air 
that may be included among pirouettes is a jete en 
tournant; and it may be adorned with an entrechat, a 
brise, or whatever "beats" may suit the artist's taste and 
abilities. 



84 



THE DANCE 



The words ''arabesque'' and ''attitude'' do not refer to 
steps, but to postures. Their composition is as exactly 
defined as that of any step. Figure 56 shows a typical 
arabesque. 

The developpe above referred to is a usual means of 
bringing a leg to horizontal, as a preliminary to fur- 




c^V 




11/ 

72 73 

Two Forms of "Attitude." 
Open (ouverte) 72; crossed (croise) ys- The position of the support- 
ing leg is the same in both. 



ther work. It is the opening step of many a dance-poem, 
and a pretty accurate index of the class of work to fol- 
low. If the leg rises without hurry or faltering, and 
unfolds with its proper sense of proud elegance; if al- 
ways the body keeps the serene relaxation that accom- 
panies only the perfection of equilibrium, there is com- 
ing a feast for the gods. Far from the least of Genee's 
manifestations of virtuosity is the legato poise of her en- 
trance stepping down from a picture frame : so deliberate 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 85 

and even is her developpe that the eye at first fails to 
discern movement, as though it were watching the open- 
ing of a morning glory. Never the twitch of a muscle, 
never an impulse of hurry, never the suspicion of hesi- 
tation — through bar after bar of music, the ethereal one 
makes that first step reverence-compelling in its incred- 
ible beauty of movement. 

Analogous to the developpe in execution is the pas de 
cheval, the latter, however, serving to change the dan- 
cer's place on the floor. It is proud, strong, triumphant ; 
used in an advance of a corps de ballet toward the spec- 
tator, the motive of dominance is strongly felt. Though 
effective, it is not one of the structural parts, like the 
steps heretofore described. It is, rather, a decorative 
unit superadded. The same may be said of the pas 
de chat, which is a jerky, short and very rapid simple 
alternating step; bending the knees sharply, but not 
bringing them high; the feet crossing at each step. It 
is not the physical locomotion of a cat, but it is a good 
interpretation of the spirit of an especially capricious 
one. It expresses well the idea of witchcraft or mis- 
chievous spirits. 

Going to the extreme contrast of this step, a fortissimo 
effect is attained by the male dancer's form of extended 
jump. It is necessarily high; but it emphasises espe- 
cially its effect of length horizontally. (See figures 74 
and 75.) Auguste Vestris, the eighteenth-century vir- 
tuoso, owed a part of his reputation to his power in 
this step ; "suspended in the air" was the phrase attach- 
ing to his performance of it. Its function is, in great 
part, to astonish. Women accomplish its effect with the 
aid of a supporting man ; the change of level attained by 
this leap aided by a "lift" is indeed a harmonised ex- 



86 THE DANCE 

plosion, especially if it follows an arrangement of little 
steps. 

Stories of the impression created by Vestris' leap 
would be quite incredible were their possibility not con- 
firmed in our own time. In Scheherazade Volinine 
jumped a distance that seemed literally more than half 
the width of a big stage. An illusion, of course. The 
world's record in the broad jump is less than twenty- 
five feet, and the broad jumper's covered distance does 
not look so impressive in actuality as it does on paper, at 



^^/ 



74 75 

Mechanism of Broad Jump. 

As the body descends, the advanced leg and arm are raised, producing 

the illusion of sustained horizontal flight. 

that. Whereas the dancer's leap seems to be under no 
particular limit — when adequately performed, which is 
rare. Being typical of the trickery by which dancing 
plays with the eye, it may be worth analysing. 

The magic is based on two illusions. First, horizontal 
lines are insisted upon and preserved as continuous; 
while lines not horizontal are **broken up" into short 
lengths, to the end that they make comparatively little 
impression on the eye. The pose itself, then, is hori- 
zontal, which practically coincides with the direction of 
the dancer's flight. Every one has seen the experiment 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 87 

of apparently shortening one of two equal pencil lines by 
means of cutting short lines across it : the converse of the 
same principle governs the jump. As the pencil line 
was shortened by cross lines, the jump is lengthened by 
long lines parallel to its direction. 

As the dancer passes the top of his flight, the second 
illusion begins to go into effect. Contradicting the 
eye's observation of the gradual descent of the body, the 
long lines of the artist's arms and legs are steadily raised 
to point more and more upward. Be the reason what- 
ever it may, the spectator is much less conscious of the 
body's descent than of the level — or even rising — direc- 
tion of those long lines ; lines which, by the time the step 
is half completed, have come to appear a good deal longer 
than they are. The dancer lowers his foot just in time 
to alight properly. The eye meantime has been so im- 
pressed by the sweep of horizontals that it conveys to 
the mind an agreeably exaggerated statement of the 
length of leap they represent. Also it probably has been 
so puzzled that its owner, unless he knows something of 
dancing, has failed to catch the value of the step as a 
thing of beauty. 

Reasonable familiarity with the foregoing descriptions 
of steps will, it is hoped, enable the reader to look at great 
dancing with the added joy that comes of intelligent 
sympathy with the ballet's intent as decoration, as well 
as insight into its technical means. The resume of steps 
includes the ballet's fundamentals. Each step has its 
variations, as has been suggested ; some of the variations 
diverge far enough from the basic step to have earned a 
special designation. For the sake of simplicity, the spe- 
cial names of subvarieties of steps have been eliminated 
from this little discussion; but not at the sacrifice of 



88 THE DANCE 

anything that a well-informed connoisseur of the ballet 
need know. 

It is a subject whose study is accompanied by the sat- 
isfaction that time spent on it is not being frittered away 
on an affair of a day. Some of the steps are coeval with 
the earliest graphic records of social life; Emmanuel {La 
Danse Grecque Antique) has made a fascinating book 
showing the use of many present-day ballet steps (in- 
cluding "toe-work") by the figures on early Greek 
ceramics, carvings, etc. Various ages have added to the 
vocabulary of choreographic material; the national 
academies of France and Italy have preserved that which 
is contributory to their ideals of almost architectural 
style, and rejected that which lacks form, even though 
expressive. The tours and pas of which ballet eloquence 
is composed, therefore, represent a selection based on 
generations of careful and accurately recorded experi- 
ment in the interest of pure beaut}^ The designation 
"classic,'' attached to French and Italian ballets, is in 
all ways correct and deserved. The watchful care of 
guardians keeps both schools aloof from passing caprices 
of the public, and uncorrupted by vulgar fashions. 
There is a present and growing movement toward nat- 
uralistic pantomime — a mode combining with popularity 
enough intrinsic good to occasion anxiety lest the classic 
ballet perish under its momentum. In reply to which 
let it be emphasised at this point that the old schools 
never have failed to incorporate the good of whatever has 
offered; whereas that which was not of intrinsic value 
always has passed away through its own lack of aesthetic 
soundness. The Russian academy bases its technique 
on the French-Italian, and insists on it rigourously as a 
groundwork; Madame Pavlowa's practice is conducted 




Classic Ballet Positions 
Mile. Louise La Gai 

Typical moments in a renverse (i, 2, 3, 4, 5) — Starting a developpe (6) — Progress 
of a Rond de jambe (7, 8, 9) — {Continued) 



To face page 




Classic Ballet Positions {Continued) 

Rond de jamhe (lo) — Jeie tour (ii) — Pas de hourree (12) — Preparation for a 
Pirouette (13) — Position sur la pointe (14) — k jouette tour, inward (15) — 
A cabriole a derriere (16) — Descent from an entrechat (17) — An arabesque (18) 



To face page 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 89 

daily under the eye of her Italian maestro, Ceccetti. 
Lydia Lopoukowa, Alexander Volinine — perfect, both, 
in academic form ; their romantic pantomime is an addi- 
tion, not a corntption. These are among the great 
artistic intelligences in the new Russian movement. 
Meantime arises a horde of beings possessed of *'soul,'' 
"God-given individuality," ^'natural and vmhampered 
grace,'' boasting of their self-evident innocence of all 
instruction. These last constitute the tidal wave that 
excites alarmists, on behalf of the classic ballet ! 

No less subject to rule and form than steps and their 
elements is choreographic composition. Steps are 
phrased and phrases repeated, exactly as in music. By 
the same formality of construction, each movement of 
the composition is dominated by a fixed theme. Suppose 
an entrance is in the coquettish mood : it is not unlikely 
that the ballet-master will elect to interpret that mood 
by whirls — in other words, the horizontal circle. The 
girl may approach the man in a wide pique tour ( a stage- 
covering circle, the dancer picking her steps with empha- 
sised daintiness), elude his grasp by means of a series 
of rapid pas de bourree turns, and perhaps finally spin 
into his arms at the finish of a pirouette. Everything is 
kept in turns, and in little vivacious steps ; no great ele- 
vation, no open or sweeping movements ; nothing of the 
glorious, everything to secure daintiness. Again, the 
same motive might be rendered in quite another way, 
namely, by short advances, retreats and steps to the side. 
The passage might start with a series of releves — quick, 
sharp rises to the toe, the free foot crossing to pose in 
front of the ankle of the supporting foot, after describing 
(each step) a petit hattement en avant; short, crisp, 
dainty movements, all. In this group might appropri- 



90 THE DANCE 

ately be included pas de bourree dessus-dessous (i. e., in 
front and behind) ; glissades; petit s hattements ; and the 
deviHsh-looking little pas-de-chat. In the same en- 
chainement might easily be grouped the entrechat. All 
these steps may unite in a similarity of action: slight 
elevation, and a short, saucy movement in which the 
horizontal direction predominates. 

If the mood to be expressed were the triumphant, its 
interpretation might begin with a series of pas de cheval. 
With this the hallone and a rond de jambe finishing en 
arabesque would unite coherently, their movements all 
being based on the general form of an arch. 

To multiply instances of arrangement by theme is 
needless. A ballet-master would admit a greater va- 
riety of steps together in sequence than the foregoing 
paragraphs indicate; whirling dervishes produce an ef- 
fect by turns alone. The instances are given with view 
only to emphasising the principle of theme unity. What 
is not obvious to him who never has seen the horrible 
example of lack of observance of this principle is, that 
it is not an arbitrary convention, but a fundamental 
necessity. It is no uncommon thing to see good execu- 
tion completely wasted in a helter-skelter throwing to- 
gether of steps that lead to nothing. Cumulative devel- 
opment — with adornment but not digression — along a 
certain line, will coax the spectator into a mood of full 
sympathy with the performance. But a series of un- 
related turns, jumps sidewise and up in the air, entre- 
chats and kicks, bears about the same relation to choreo- 
graphic argument as a cat's antics on the keyboard of 
a piano does to the work of a musician. 

It will of course be understood that the ballet-mas- 
ter's problem is complicated by requirements and limi- 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 91 

tations not even touched upon in this work. Conform- 
ity to his accompanying music, for instance, is alone a 
matter of careful study. In former generations, before 
the present relative importance of music, the musical 
composer followed the scenario of the ballet, which was 
composed first and independently. Nowadays — owing 
to causes as to which speculation is free — the procedure 
is reversed. The ballet-master must not only follow 
phrasing as it is written ; he must move his people about 
the stage in felicitous group evolutions, basing their steps 
on a fixed number of musical bars and beats. This re- 
quirement disposed of, he should interpret the music's 
changing moods with appropriate steps. Taking as an 
example a bit of the Ballet of the Hours in Gioconda: 
the music of the hours before dawn is largo and dreamy, 
breaking into a sparkling allegro as the light comes, in- 
creasing in speed and strength until a forte tells of the 
full-fledged new day. There are steps and combinations 
to render these motives with the utmost expressiveness. 
Failure to employ them does not represent lack of com- 
petence on the part of the director, so often as it does 
inadequacy of the human material at his disposal. In 
America, at present, the task of producing effects with 
people whose incapability he must conceal is perhaps the 
most serious embarrassment the ballet-master has to 
face. 

The dancer's supreme virtue is style. If, beginnrng 
as a naturally graceful youngster, he has been diligent 
for from four to seven years in ballet school, he will 
have it ; some acquire it by study alone. With practice 
from two to four hours every morning, and half an 
hour to an hour before each performance, he is likely to 
keep it. What style is, is not for words to define. To 



92 THE DANCE 

preserve mathematical precision in a series of definitely 
prescribed movements, while executing those movements 
with the flowing sweep of perfect relaxation; to move 
through the air like a breeze-wafted leaf, and alight with 
a leaf's airiness ; to ennoble the violence of a savage with 
a demi-god's dignity ; to combine woman's seductiveness 
with the illusiveness of a spirit — these things are not 
style, but the kind of thing that style makes possible, the 
magic results from the perfect co-ordination of many 
forces, both aesthetic and mechanical. Some of the lat- 
ter, as to theory, are readily enough understood. 

Of the ballet dancer's ever-surprising defiance of the 
law of gravity, the more obvious means are the plie, to 
soften a descent, and a manner of picking up the weight 
so quickly that the body seems buoyant. Of perhaps 
no less value, though not so obvious, is the straight 
knee. To the eye it gives a sensation of sure archi- 
tectural support — doubtless through the suggestion of 
a column. The mechanical importance of the straight 
supporting knee is no less than the aesthetic, since a 
firm foundation is essential to perfect control of body, 
arms and head. When the knee "slumps," the usual 
consequence is a softened back and a collapsed chest. 
The muscles of the body "let down," the fine, hy- 
persensitive control of head and arms is gone. Crisp 
movement being impossible to them without a sound, 
springy body as a base to work on, the work becomes 
monotonous and soggy. 

The theory of a straight supporting axis applies also 
to the foot as soon as it rises sur la point e. The foot of 
Madame Pavlowa en arabesque (see reproduction of 
her photograph) illustrates the principle. Mechanically, 
there is definite advantage in an absolutely vertical sup- 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 93 

port; while the spectator's visual impression asserts 
without hesitation that the figure above the foot is with- 
out weight whatever. The superb line of the ankle, 
continuous in sweep over the instep, is not the least of 
the wonders of what, if one were writing in Spanish, 
one could without extravagance refer to as "that little 
foot of gold/' 

It should not in the least modify admiration of this 
superlative bit of technique to dispel the not uncommon 
belief that rising on the toes is a cause of physical tor- 
ment, a feat requiring extraordinary strength, or in it- 
self an achievement to insist upon. Quite the contrary. 
Like every other position in the dance, any half-trained 
performer or student can get it, all except the quality. 
As soon as a pupil has acquired the equilibrium that 
ought to precede toe-work, the necessary muscular de- 
velopment has taken care of itself, as a general rule; 
and she takes position on the point without special effort. 
Help is given the foot by the hard-toe slipper, combining 
as it does the support of a well-fitted shoe with a square, 
blunt toe. The latter, though of small area, furnishes 
some base to stand on. Stiffening in the fore-part of 
the shoe protects the toes against bruising in the descent 
from leaps. 

Position on the point justly claims attention as an 
acrobatic wonder, when it is taken barefooted. And 
a dancer who, barefooted, can perform steps on the point, 
supporting herself easily with one foot off the floor, is 
simply hyper-normal in strength of ankles, feet, and legs. 
Miss Bessie Clayton is such a one, and very likely the 
only one. It is a feat whose absence from formal dan- 
cing is not felt, though its use would be effective in some 
of the re-creations of Greek work. There is evidence 



94 THE DANCE 

that the early Greeks practiced it, as before noted. In 
our own times, there is only one instance, among the 
stories ever heard by the authors, of barefoot work on 
the point being done in public; and that performance, 
oddly enough, took place in precedent-worshipping 
Spain. The occasion was one of those competitions 
that Spaniards love to arrange when two or more 
good dancers happen to play the same town at the 
same time. Tremendous affairs; not only does rivalry 
approach the line of physical hostilities among the spec- 
tators, but the competition draws out feats of special 
virtuosity that the dancers have practiced secretly, in 
anticipation of such contingencies. La Gitanita (the 
Little Gipsy), one of the competitors in the event re- 
ferred to, had, for some years, put in a patient half-hour 
a day on the ends of her bare toes, without the knowl- 
edge of any but the members of her family. When, 
therefore, at the coming of her turn in the competition, 
she threw her shoes to the audience, and her stockings 
behind a wing, and danced a copla of las Sevillanas on 
the point, the contest was settled. Most of the specta- 
tors never had heard even of the existence of such a 
thing as toe-work, because it does not exist in Spanish 
dancing. The experience to them was like witnessing 
a miracle; so it happens that La Gitanita, many years 
dead, is still talked of when Spanish conversation turns 
to incredible feats of dancing. 

With such rare exceptions as the above, however, the 
person who is happy in seeing difficulties overcome is 
best repaid by watching the manner instead of the mat- 
ter. There is hardly a step but can be floundered 
through, if real execution be disregarded. The difficul- 
ties that take years to master, that keep the front rank 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 95 

thin, are those of nobility, ease and precision of action. 
Naturally, it is harder to preserve these qualities through 
a renverse than in a pas de Basque; but there is no merit 
in exhibiting a renverse badly done. The latter is a 
pertinent instance of things difficult to do well. A fou- 
ette tour "inward" is not safely attempted by any but the 
most skilful ; nor is either a fouette or a rond de jambe, 
finishing in arabesque. To keep the movement con- 
tinuous, imperceptibly slowing it down as the arabesque 
settles into its final pose, requires ability of a rare grade. 

As the little alternating steps furnish the means of 
regaining equilibrium after a big pas or tour, it follows 
that their elimination from an enchainement represents 
a tour de force. This is especially true if the big steps 
be taken at a slow tempo (as an adagio, so called) ; and 
difficulties are compounded if the artist performs the 
entire adagio on the point. Few there are in any gen- 
eration who can attempt such a flight. 

But there are many qualities justly to be demanded of 
any artist who steps before an audience. Crisp, straight- 
line movements should be cleanly differentiated from the 
soft and flowing. An entrechat not as sharp-cut as a 
diamond represents incompetent or slovenly workman- 
ship. The same applies to other steps of the staccato 
character — as battements, brises, pirouettes sur le cou- 
de-pied. Each dancer rightly has his own individuality ; 
and the movements of one will be dominated by a liquid 
quality, while another's will be brilliant, or ''snappy." 
But a dancer who is truly an artist has, within his scope, 
a good contrast between the several types of movement. 
Lack of such contrast may cause a sense of monotony 
even in very skilful work. Elevation also is important 
in preserving a sense of variety. Not only plie and 



96 THE DANCE 

rise are made to serve; raisings of the arms add im- 
mensely to the sense of vertical uplift when height is 
sought. 

A certain conformity to geometrical exactness is nec- 
essary to the satisfaction of the spectator's eye, and is 
observed by all but the incompetent. Not that movement 
should be rigid — very much to the contrary. "Geom- 
etry" is a sinister word; interpreted in a sense in which 
it is not meant, it would be misleading. An example is 
sometimes clearer than attempted definitions or descrip- 
tions. 

If, having given an order for a grandfather's clock, 
the recipient found on delivery that it did not stand quite 
straight, he would be annoyed. Suppose then that fur- 
ther observation revealed that the face of the clock was 
not in the middle, that the centre of the circle described 
by the hands was not the centre of the face, that the face 
was no more than an indeterminate approximation of a 
circle, and that the numerals were placed at random in- 
tervals ; the eye of the clock's owner would be offended. 
Various aesthetic and psychological arguments might be 
applied to the justification of his feeling, but they are 
not needed. The futility of near-circles, approximate 
right angles and wobbly lines is felt instinctively. Yet 
the eye rejoices in the "free-hand" sweep of line correct 
in placement, though not subjected to the restrictions of 
straight-edge and compass. Asking for acceptance in 
such sense of the terms "geometrical" and "precision," 
we may return to our discussion of the ballet. 

The decorative iniquity of the hypothetical clock at- 
taches to all dancing that fails to give to precision the 
most rigourous consideration. The imaginary circle de- 
scribed in a pirouette, for example, is divided into halves 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 97 

and quarters. Let us suppose the pirouette to end in 
arabesque, stopping on the half-circle, bringing the dan- 
cer in profile to the audience : a very few degrees off the 
half-circle are, from the ballet-master's point of view, 
about of a kind with a few centimetres separating the 
misplaced clock hands from their proper situation in the 
centre of the dial. The petit rond de jambe has its imag- 
inary quarter of the great circle in which to play, and 
which it must fill. In a fouette, the sweep of the foot 
starts at the quarter-circle (marked by an imaginary lat- 
eral plane through the dancer's body), and reaches back 
just to the half-circle (defined by a similar plane, drawn 
longitudinally). The lateral elevations of the legs are 
likewise subject to law, the imaginary vertical circle 
described by the leg as radius being divided into eights, 
to allow the leg to use the angle of forty-five degrees; 
experience shows that this diagonal, half a right angle, 
is pleasing to the eye and not disturbing to the senses. 

The hands and forearms are turned in such a way as 
to eliminate elbows, the coincidence of a contour of the 
arm with an arc of a big (imaginary) circle being al- 
ways sought. 

The convention of "toeing out" has as an object the 
showing of ankles and legs to the best advantage. On 
the flat foot the advantage is not so apparent ; but experi- 
ment shows that pointing out and down greatly helps 
the appearance of a foot in the air. The supporting foot 
and leg also show the benefit of the device as soon as the 
dancer rises to the ball of the foot or the point. More- 
over, it is obvious that the pointing of a supporting foot 
forward would necessitate changes from the classic form 
of many steps. 

Recent years have brought out a volume of protest 



98 THE DANCE 

to the effect that the classic ballet's restriction of move- 
ment too severely limits expression. The protest is 
right or wrong according to point of view, and point of 
view is a matter of historical period. The French school 
comes to us from a time when men kissed hands and 
drew swords in exact accordance with accepted forms, 
and the favoured house-decoration was a tapestry de- 
signed on lines purely architectural. The present is a 
moment of much concern about freedom of the individ- 
ual, and its expression. Curiosity is at boiling-point. 
Narrative is sought. We want something to happen, 
all the time. And those who fail to see the actual oc- 
currence want the story of it to be graphic. Moving 
pictures are very satisfying to the majority. Acres of 
popular pictures are painted in boisterous disregard of 
order or harmony of line and form. It would be very 
pleasant for those who enjoy optical beauty, if public 
taste required beauty as a first requisite for popularity. 
Nevertheless, popular pictures as they are do no partic- 
ular harm, probably, either to those who like them or to 
those who do not. 

But, if the world's great and beautiful mural decora- 
tions were suddenly painted over with frenzied or senti- 
mental illustrations, to "modernise" them, it would be 
a different matter. That little public to whom beauty 
is as a necessary sustenance — ^by coincidence the same 
public that includes the leaders of thought in each gen- 
eration — would have a good deal to say in the line of 
objection to such desecration. Now, the ballet is essen- 
tially a mural decoration, potentially very great in power 
to exalt. If a large element should have its way, the 
next few years would see that decoration painted over 



THE BALLET'S TECHNIQUE 99 

with a huge choreographic story-picture, sentimental or 
frenzied, realistic; and beauty be hanged. 

This anarchistic mania is in no wise a doctrine of the 
Russians. But their undiscerning admirers, seeing in 
their work only the lines of departure from old-estab- 
lished formulae, shout to heaven that any restraint of 
individual caprice is wrong. Innocent of suspicion that 
such things as aesthetic principles exist, they force their 
expression of ''individuality'' to the limit of their inven- 
tion. And some of them certainly are inventive. 

Fortunately the great dancer is great largely because 
of his perception of the value of order and form. The 
best of the Russians are great dancers ; great artists in 
the full sense of the word. They are the ones who will 
profoundly influence the aesthetic thought of the present 
generation, and their influence will be sound and good. 
Opposing it will be many a ''hit" by skilful characters, 
and a dangerous numerical force among the public. It 
is easily possible that the latter influence may prevail. 
The grand ballet is still an experiment in the America of 
this generation. It was here thirty years ago, and fell 
into the hands of Philistines, who shaped it into the silly 
thing they thought they wanted, and then were forced 
to abandon it because it was silly. 

Than the present, there never was a more important 
crisis in the cause of choreographic good taste. The out- 
come depends upon the manner and degree in which those 
who stand for good taste assert themselves during the 
next few years. 



CHAPTER V 

THE GOLDEN AGE OF DANCING 

LOUIS XIV brought public interest in the ballet to 
a point of eager excitement; indeed, the influence 
of a monarch's consistent patronage, including the 
foundation of a national academy, added to the example 
of his prominent participation in about thirty allegorical 
dancing spectacles, could not fail to be powerful. 

With the growth of public interest and intelligence, 
the ballet and the technique of dancing developed com- 
mensurately. The two enthusiasms of public and artists 
reacted on each other to the advantage of both; in the 
uninterrupted enrichment of the ballet the public never 
failed to find its attention repaid in ever-increasing fas- 
cination. Dancers, composers and directors, on their 
side, abandoned themselves to their work with the zeal 
that comes of certainty that no good thing will pass 
unnoticed. 

Such conditions bring good results more than can be 
foreseen even by those actively engaged. As, in fiction, 
the miner in trying to loosen a nugget usually uncovers 
a vein, so it may occur in the arts. For instance, Ca- 
margo found that her entrechat was difficult and in- 
effectual under the weight and length of the fashionable 
skirt of the period. She therefore had a skirt made 
reaching midway from knee to foot. A simple solution ? 
Certainly. But it was thought of only after centuries 
of submission to clothes that considered fashion and dis- 

100 



THE GOLDEN AGE loi 

regarded the problems and possibilities of the dancer's 
art. And it represented the species of decision that risks 
acting counter to an accepted, unquestioned institution. 
It was not an effort to draw attention by means of a 
spurious originality. Camargo's work explained the 
change. The public understood and approved. The 
ballet was directed toward its costume; a long journey 
lay ahead of it, but it was rightly started. 

Liberty of movement so attained at once put a pre- 
mium on higher and more open steps; technical inven- 
tion was set to work as never before. The hallone, 
various pas battus and ronds-de-jamhe that followed im- 
measurably enhanced the scope of the ballet as an in- 
strument of ocular-orchestral expression. New en- 
chainements, striking in the contrast of little work with 
big, soon made the court dances — which for a period 
had constituted the ballet's working material — look old- 
fashioned. The stage now required considerable eleva- 
tion, decided contrasts, increasing scope. And, what- 
ever the cost in skill and energy, there were dancers 
eager to expend the energy and to give the needed years 
to acquiring the skill. 

Since the days of the Roman Empire, masks had been 
worn to identify characters. Not a bit of cloth to cover 
the face, merely; but cumbersome things with plumes, 
wings, metallic spikes (i. e., the rays of the sun worn 
by Louis XIV in the Ballet of Night) or what-not, 
so extended that they restricted the action of the 
the arms, so heavy as to interfere with steps. It was 
a clumsy convention, but it was as integrally a part of 
stage representation as scenery is to-day, and the few 
who wished its abolition were outvoted by a cautious 
majority. At last, according to her custom of helping 



102 THE DANCE 

an enterprise that is doing well, Fate took a hand. 
Auguste Vestris failed to appear for a certain perform- 
ance ; as the time for his entrance drew near, the anxious 
stage director asked Gardel to "go on" in Vestris' part. 
Gardel, an until-that-time ineffectual rebel against the 
mask, consented; but with the condition that the mask 
be omitted. In default of arrangements more to his 
satisfaction, the director consented. The public at once 
saw the advantage of the change, and were pleased with 
Gardel's appearance. So began the end of the dominion 
of the mask. 

Of the notable personalities that the early rays of 
the eighteenth century illuminated, the aforementioned 
Auguste Vestris was the interesting son of a more in- 
teresting father. The latter was a genius of the very 
first water, with a conceit so incredibly exaggerated that 
it is almost lovable. ''This century," he was accustomed 
to observe, ''has produced but three great men — myself, 
Voltaire, and Frederick the Great." He sometimes 
signed himself '7^ Dion de la Danse'' ; himself a Floren- 
tine, the relation of French spelling to pronunciation was 
contrary to his ideas. The phrase as he put it had a 
special merit, and as "le Diou de la Danse' he was known 
through his long life. A lady, having stepped on his 
foot, expressed a hope that she had not hurt him. "Le 
Diou" depreciated the hurt to himself, but informed the 
lady that she had put Paris into a two-weeks' mourning. 
Of his son's leaps he said that if Auguste did not remain 
in the air forever, it was because he did not wish to 
humiliate his comrades. 

The foundation of the Opera was another of the im- 
pulses to act favourably, if indirectly, upon the interests 
of dancing. Its modest beginning had been made a few 



THE GOLDEN AGE 103 

years after that of the ballet academy. The two arts 
at once combined to produce a new variety of musical 
spectacle, namely, opera. Great music came to the fore 
in response to the added encouragement — but digres- 
sions must be repressed. 

Contemporary with Camargo and Salle was a dreamer 
of dreams too great to be realized in his own time, but 
whose ideas take place among the lasting good influences 
in art. Garrick called him *'the Shakespeare of the 
Dance" ; his name was Noverre. 

To the post of ballet-master at the Opera he brought 
the experience of years in similar service in Stuttgart, 
Vienna and St. Petersburg. His work he regarded with 
the broad vision of cultivated understanding of painting, 
music, story, acting and dancing, and the functions of 
each. His genius was, above all else, constructive; his 
ideal was to bring the arts into a harmonious union, to 
which each should contribute its utmost, while all should 
be informed with and dominated by a single aesthetic 
purpose. 

The obstacle always blocking his path was not in- 
competence of aides and artists, not lack of money, nor 
any of the betes noires to which more recent idealists are 
accustomed. His enemy was the inert, impalpable and 
almost invincible force of custom, paradoxically persist- 
ent despite the public's demand for new things. It was 
custom that the composer of a ballet should always ar- 
range for the introduction of the specialties of the sev- 
eral principals, irrespective of motives. Custom obliged 
him to arrange entrances in the inverse order of the 
artists' relative ranks — he of least rank "going on" first, 
the star being the last to appear. Noverre broke up this 
usage, and characters thereafter entered at times con- 



104 THE DANCE 

sistent with plot-development. Plots had been crippled 
by accepted beliefs that certain dance sequences were 
unalterable; a Gavotte, for instance, had to be followed 
by a Tambourin and a Musette; the sequence had not 
been questioned. Noverre saw the possibilities of dan- 
cing as an instrument of expression; he insisted that 
steps and enchainements should be composed to intensify 
the motive of the passage. Scenery, he held, should 
contribute in the same way to the mood of the act it 
decorates. Pretty it had been, and executed by capable 
painters; but Noverre found its composition lacking in 
consideration of proper relationship to the other ele- 
ments of the production. With himself he associated 
Boucher and one or two other decorators of lesser name; 
under his comprehension of the scene's dramatic intent, 
settings were designed that reasserted in line, form and 
colour the argument of the scene's plot, music and dance. 
In this department he was less successful than in others. 
Boucher made beautiful sketches, some of which are ex- 
tant. But one has only to consider opera in his own 
day to realise that any influence Noverre exercised 
toward the unification of scenery with music and plot, 
was not strong enough to last. Stories taken from leg- 
end, set among surroundings as realistic as skill can 
paint them ; tragic scenes among architecture and foliage 
coloured in the key of care-free frivolity — to enumerate 
the familiar discrepancies is unnecessary. Tradition 
specifies a bright first-act "set" for Carmen, and grey 
for the prison interior in Faust. But the profound cor- 
relation of colour and line with the explicit mood of the 
piece has remained for the Russian, Leon Bakst. In the 
recent volcanic renaissance of dancing effected by his 
fellow-countrymen, M. Bakst and his ideas have been a 



THE GOLDEN AGE 105 

force second only to the marvellous work of the dancers 
themselves. His scenery strikes the note of the drama, 
attunes the spectator with its mood, at the rise of the 
curtain. His knowledge of pictorial composition he has 
extended to the designing of costumes ; his broad artist's 
intelligence he has applied to the composition and direc- 
tion of ballets ! It is his happy role to realise Noverre's 
dream. 

In music Noverre worked with Gluck, in certain pro- 
ductions at least ; and happily. ''Instead of writing the 
steps on prescribed airs," in a free translation of his 
own words, ''as is done with couplets of familiar tunes, 
I composed — if I may so express myself — the dialogue 
of my ballet and had the music made for each phrase 
and each idea. It was just so that I dictated to Gluck 
the characteristic air of the ballet of the savages in 
Iphigenia in Tauris; the steps, the gestures, the expres- 
sions of the different personages that I designed for him 
gave to the celebrated composer the character of the 
composition of that beautiful bit of music.'' 

The abolition of the mask was among Noverre's de- 
sires; its fortuitous accomplishment at a later time al- 
ready has been described. In his ideals for costume 
reform in general he was only partly successful. What 
he strove for seems to have been costuming in some- 
thing of the sense of its present-day interpretation by 
the Russians; garments wholly in character with the 
beings represented, in regard to race and period, yet 
conceding enough in line and colour to enable them to 
be used as part of the material of abstract interpretation. 
At the beginning of his administration of the Opera 
he found each performer dressed, for the most part, 
according to individual choice : either the drawing-room 



io6 THE DANCE 

costume of the period, or the same with shortened skirt, 
a la Camargo. To this was added the mask, an enor- 
mous wig (unrelated to the character) and some such 
symbol as a leopard skin, a wreath of flowers, or more 
likely a property such as a bow and quiver of arrows, or 
a pair of bellows. In the order mentioned, such articles 
represented a bacchante, Flora, Cupid, and Zephyrus. 
Excepting the superadded marks of identification, artists 
provided their own wardrobe. The lack of consistent 
supervision and its natural consequence is exemplified 
in an anecdote of a member of the corps de ballet in Le 
Carnaval et la Folie: in the performance she exhibited 
a series of gowns of Adrienne Lecouvreur, which she 
had thriftily picked up at a sale of the recently deceased 
tragedienne's effects. 

In the ballet of The Horatii, of Noverre's own com- 
position, ''Camilla wore a huge hooped petticoat, her hair 
piled up three feet high with flowers and ribbons. Her 
brothers wore long-skirt coats, set out from their hips 
by padding." And so forth. 

It is to be noted that Roman and Greek mythology 
lived and flourished, but no longer excluded other lore 
from the composer's use. A list of Noverre's ballets 
d' action includes The Death of Ajax, The Judgment of 
Paris, Orpheus' Descent into Hell, Rinaldo and Armida, 
The Caprices of Galatea, The Toilette of Venus and the 
Roses of Love, The Jealousies of the Seraglio, The Death 
of Agamemnon, The Clemency of Titus, Cupid the Pirate 
and The Embarkation for Cythera, His work of perma- 
nent value, still read by composers and ballet-masters, is 
his book Letters on the Imitative Arts. For his light 
composition, Les Petits Riens, the music was by Mozart. 

Notwithstanding his failure to accomplish all he hoped 



THE GOLDEN AGE 107 

in the several departments of his organisation, and in 
spite of his rather pessimistic opinions of early eight- 
eenth-century conditions affecting the ballet, the dance 
was entering its golden age. Pantomime — largely ow- 
ing to the enrichment he had given it out of the fruits of 
his study of Garrick's methods — had exponents who 
could touch the heart. Writings began to show intelli- 
gent and explicit criticism, and that of a nature to prove 
that choreographic execution had reached a high point. 
The added scope afforded by new acquisitions of ma- 
terial in the steps allowed artists to go far in develop- 
ment of individuality. Camargo charmed by perfection 
of technique; "'she danced to dance, not to stir emotion." 
Her special steps are enumerated : besides the entrechat, 
she shone in jetes battus and a frictionless entrechat 
coupe. About her work there was a healthy public 
controversy, a vigourous minority protesting against 
idolisation of one who they asserted had virtuosity 
only. And the protests show analytical understanding 
of the dance. 

Salle's more deliberate, probably more feeling work, 
has been noted in an earlier chapter. Her popularity 
hardly could have been less, all told, than that of her 
rival. 

Miles. Allard and Guimard were two stars who fol- 
lowed a little later in the same period. The former com- 
bined extraordinary vigour with pathetic pantomime. 
The work of Guimard was delicate, pretty, light. 
"She is a shadow, flitting through Elysian groves," one 
of her contemporaries wrote of her. Certainly she had 
the art of pleasing, on the stage or off. The list of 
eminent competitors for her affection is eloquent not in 
its length, but in the number of occupants of high station 



io8 THE DANCE 

— including three princes of the Church. With a pas- 
sion for theatrical and political intrigue she combined 
a spirit of the utmost generosity. To her the painter 
David owed his professional beginnings; he was an art 
student without means to study, and engaged in house- 
painting for a livelihood, when Guimard secured him a 
pension that afforded him study at Rome. Some of 
Fragonard's best decorations were made for her estab- 
lishments. 

Her refusal to have any rival about her kept the Opera 
in an uproar. Perfectly appointed little theatres in both 
her country and city homes enabled her, with her taste, 
means, and popularity among the people of the stage, 
to give performances for which invitations were most 
highly prized. For these performances she made a prac- 
tice of setting dates to coincide with court receptions, 
knowing from experience that the best wit and most of 
the elegance of Paris would make excuses to the court. 
From this estate she was reduced, partly by the storm of 
the Revolution, to a condition of miserable poverty last- 
ing until her death ; which was delayed until her seventy- 
fourth year. 

Men did not fall short of women in merit and recogni- 
tion. Beside the Vestris, father and son, fame touched 
Javillier, Dauberval, and the comedy dancer Lany. 
Maximilian Gardel, he who substituted for Auguste Ves- 
tris on condition of appearing without the mask (Apollo, 
in Castor and Pollux was the role), was a composer of 
note as well as a dancer. His brother Pierre added to 
these qualities skill as a violinist. 

* jK * :Js 

The progress of the ballet was halted by the Revolu- 
tion. Gardel headed an effort to keep it in motion with 



THE GOLDEN AGE 109 

the aid of a spectacle La Marseillaise as vehicle ; but the 
people were on the streets, dancing la Carmagnole, and 
nobility were as far from Paris as possible. It is prob- 
able that the ballet was set down as an aristocratic in- 
stitution. Napoleon included a corps de ballet in the 
equipment of the campaign in Egypt; but it signified 
nothing to the advantage of the art. Immediately after 
the Terror, eighteen hundred dance-halls were opened in 
Paris, to furnish, seven nights a week, relief for fever 
and frenzy. Even England was too preoccupied to 
offer the ballet a dwelling; its organisation, for the time 
being, was lost. 

But only for the time being. History records a bit 
of international negotiation indicating Europe's readi- 
ness to return to the realities of life and the happiness 
thereof. In 1821 an ambassador of a great power acted 
officially as an impresario of dancers. 

England, whose best public taste never has been satis- 
fied with the work of her own people, was, within a few 
years after the peace, again seeking dancers in France. 
Efforts to get the best were handicapped. The national 
character of the French Academy makes its pupils and 
graduates wards of their government, in effect ; govern- 
ment permission is and was necessary as a condition to 
leaving the country. Negotiations therefore were put 
into the hands of the British ambassador, less formal 
dealings apparently having failed to produce results. 
The agreement was incorporated in the form of a treaty, 
France agreeing to lend England two first and two sec- 
ond dancers, England in return agreeing not to attempt 
to engage any others without the Academy's consent. 

M. Albert and Mile. Noblet were the first two artists 
to be taken to London under the new arrangement, at 



no THE DANCE 

salaries of £1700 and £1500 respectively. During the 
same period, and for years after, Her Majesty's Theatre 
had the services of Carlo Blasis, one of the most capable 
ballet-masters of his time, father of several virtuosi, and 
the writer of books of lasting value on the subject of his 
profession. Dancing reached a popularity that would 
seem the utmost attainable, were it not for disclosures 
to be made in the years soon to come. 

Beauty and its appreciation will carry a public to a con- 
dition of ecstasy. If to this be added the incessant dis- 
cussion attendant on a controversy, with the hot parti- 
sanship that accompanies the coexistence of rival stars, 
the devotional flame is augmented by fuel of high cal- 
orific value. Not without cause were the hostilities of 
Pylades and Bathyllus, of Salle and Camargo, associated 
with great public enthusiasm. To artistic appreciation 
they added the element of sporting interest. 

In Marie Taglioni and Fanny Ellsler, Europe had the 
parties to a years-long competition that was Olympian 
in quality and incredible in its hold on the sympathies of 
the public. Both goddesses in art, their personalities 
and the genres of their work were at opposite extremes. 
In Pendennis Thackeray asks, *Will the young folks 
ever see anything so charming, anything so classic, any- 
thing like Taglioni?'' Of Ellsler, Flitch quotes words 
equally enthusiastic— and less coherent — from the pen of 
Theophile Gautier, who was an incurable maniac and 
(Copious writer on the subject of dancing: ''Now she 
darts forward; the castanets commence their sonorous 
clatter ; with her hands she seems to shake down clusters 
of rhythm. How she twists ! how she bends ! what fire ! 
what voluptuousness of motion ! what eager zest ! Her 
arms seem to swoon, her head droops, her body curves 



THE GOLDEN AGE in 

backward until her white shoulders almost graze the 
ground. What charm of gesture ! And with that hand 
which sweeps over the dazzle of the footlights would not 
one say that she gathered all the desires and all the en- 
thusiasms of those that watch her?" 

This referred to a Cachucha that she had brought from 
Spain ; a dance whose steps have been recomposed under 
other names, its original name forgotten except in asso- 
ciation with the name and the art of Ellsler. It was a 
perfect vehicle for the exploitation of the ardent qualities 
that the little Austrian was made of, and on her render- 
ing of it was based a great part of her fame. 

Taglioni, in contrast, was a being of spirit, innocent 
of mortal experience, free from ties of the earth. Her 
training was strictly within the bounds of the classic 
ballet ; during her career she greatly amplified its range, 
yet she always kept within its premise. Though born 
in Stockholm, her father was an Italian ballet-master, 
and two of her aunts were dancers of reputation. Her 
achievements represented a triumph of choreographic in- 
heritance and training over an ill- formed body ; in child- 
hood she is said to have been a hunchback. With train- 
ing her figure became normal in strength, and attained 
a quality of form in keeping with her selected roles. But 
overstrong features deprived her of the dancer's ad- 
ventitious aid of facial beauty. Her triumphs were 
achieved by art alone. 

Vienna she conquered at the age of twenty, in 1822, 
the year of her debut. Paris was not so readily moved ; 
but a success in that capital was a practical necessity to 
a great career, and Taglioni never rested until she se- 
cured its approval, expressed in terms that penetrated 
Europe. Business generalship was not the least of the 



112 THE DANCE 

attributes of the Taglioni, father and daughter; they 
recognised the propitious hour for an engagement in 
London. The contract included pensioning a number 
of their family, and £ioo a performance. Results more 
than justified the terms ; ticket sales for Taglioni's nights 
usually were of the nature of riots. It is as fair to con- 
nect with this box-office success, as with any quality of 
the artist herself, the story of her "holding up" a per- 
formance until the management of the theatre should 
make a substantial payment on an account due. It is 
unlovable in an artist to keep an audience waiting, and 
put a manager to the necessity of making explanations. 
It is unlovable in a coal dealer to discontinue supplies 
until a debt is settled. 

Taglioni paid as heavily for the excellence she put into 
her work as ever did miner or merchant for the goods 
he put on his scales. Her training began in early child- 
hood, and covered probably twelve years before her 
debut. Her professional career, with its inevitable anx- 
ieties, in no wise reduced the rigour of study, discipline, 
and precaution. Under her father's eye she practiced 
hours daily. She went to the length of having installed 
in her London lodgings a stage built to duplicate the 
slope of the stage in the theatre. 

Apart from the possession of ideals of sheer execution 
that undoubtedly were higher than any that her prede- 
cessors had dreamed of, and whose attainment involved 
almost superhuman effort and patience, Taglioni was 
a productive inventor of new steps. Flying brises and 
other aerial work make their first appearance in her 
work, according to Mme. Genee's historical programme 
of ballet evolution. We infer that her effort was di- 
rected toward the illusion of flight ; a writer of the period 



THE GOLDEN AGE 113 

refers to an arabesque that conveyed that sensation with 
striking reaHty. The great addition she made to eleva- 
tion may naturally be attributed not to any interest in 
that property for its own sake, but rather to an endless 
search for lightness. And that, above all others, was 
the quality she made her own. La Sylphide (not the 
composition recently popularised by the Russians) was 
the part with which she was most unified in the minds 
of the public. Her work appears always to have had the 
creation of fairy fantasy as a definite purpose. In pan- 
tomime she was limited. She had none of the stage 
artist's familiar tricks devised to capture the audience, 
nor did she avail herself of any vivid contrasts in her 
costume. She dressed her hair in Madonna fashion, 
surrounded by a wreath of little roses; further adorn- 
ment she deliberately avoided. 

Ellsler was six years the younger ; and, at some sac- 
rifice of time in the acquisition of fame, she reserved 
Paris as the last of the great cities in which to appear. 
Taglioni therefore was well established when her 
destined rival first showed her steps to the Parisians. 
In fact, she occupied a box at Ellsler's first Paris per- 
formance, where it is said she silently wept before the 
end of the other's first number. 

The Swede had succeeded almost in spite of circum- 
stances; Ellsler's natural endowment contained almost 
everything the gods in a generous mood can give. The 
perfection of proportion of hands, feet, wrists and ankles 
were hers, as well as a Greek perfection of figure. 
Though her legs were of steel, and her strength in gen- 
eral that of an athlete, not a line suffered in sculptural 
grace nor a movement in freedom. Her face had a 
beauty that captivated an audience at the moment of her 



114 THE DANCE 

entrance on the stage, and a range of expression cover- 
ing the moods of the human mind. Her training, Hke 
TagHoni's, had begun early. Mozart, for whom Ells- 
ler's father worked as copyist and otherwise, had inter- 
ested himself in her to the extent at least that her early 
years were not misspent. With her technical tuition — 
whatever it may have been — she absorbed stage experi- 
ence almost from the days of infancy. She danced in 
a children's ballet in Vienna when she was six years old. 
Before appearing in Paris she had succeeded in Naples, 
Berlin and London. The audience of TOpera there- 
fore saw her first at the full maturity of her art and 
equipped with ample knowledge of how to present it to 
the best advantage. 

Her success was not in doubt for a moment. The 
opening number was a riotous triumph, the morning 
papers were undivided in praise of the newcomer. Tag- 
lioni felt that Ellsler had been brought to Paris expressly 
to undermine her, and the appearances are that Ellsler 
lost no time in putting herself on a war footing. 

London theatre-goers soon were in a position to ques- 
tion whether, after their elaborate provisions to get good 
dancers, they had not made a rather embarrassing mis- 
play. Ellsler had danced at Her Majesty's Theatre ; the 
public had enjoyed her work, but, owing either to her 
lack of a great continental reputation or their own mis- 
givings about the soundness of her work, had refrained 
from very hearty demonstration. On the first night of 
the engagement, the manager of I'Opera — who was in 
London to form an estimate of the Austrian's work — 
signed her for the following season. 

Contrary to the metier of her rival, Ellsler's art con- 
sisted of a romantic glorification of life's physique. One 



THE GOLDEN AGE 115 

gathers that she gave, instead of an ordered and con- 
secutive poem, a thrill of delighted astonishment. She 
was of a newly forming romantic cult that worshipped 
the torrid, the savage, the violent. Her most pro- 
nounced success was on her rendering of the dances of 
Spain ; she used her hips and her smile, and men — ^more 
than women — went into rhapsodies. Gautier, who had 
seen the best dancers in Spain, wrote that none of them 
equalled Ellsler. Which is credible, with reservations 
and conditions. If the sole aim of Spanish dancing is 
to express fire and temperament, to astonish and in- 
flame, it is more likely to be realised by a clever North- 
erner than by a Spaniard. The headlong enthusiast is 
not bothered by delicate considerations of shading, de- 
velopment, and truth of form; seizing the salient and 
exotic, an exaggeration of these and the elimination of 
all else is sure to produce a startling result. Execution 
at an abnormally rapid tempo will conceal inaccuracies 
from all eyes but those trained to the dance, and backed 
by a knowledge of its true forms. 

All this by no means intends to assert that Ellsler 
was not a dancer of a high degree of skill, and per- 
haps of some degree of greatness. It is significant, 
however, that her encomiums concern themselves only 
with that which, boiled down, amounts to praise of a 
beautiful woman, performing evolutions at that time 
novel and surprising, and frankly — withal in a perfectly 
clean manner — appealing to sex. The quality that 
might be called decorative truth does not appear to have 
been an impressive element of her work. Assuredly 
that is the foundation of dancing entitled to any con- 
sideration in connection with the quality of great- 
ness. Temperament, expressing what it will, of course 



ii6 THE DANCE 

is as necessary to animate the form as true form is to 
begin with; but temperamental exuberance cannot take 
the place of a proper substructure. Granting the in- 
adequacy of data, and speculating on a basis of indica- 
tions only, one is justified in wondering if Ellsler com- 
ing to life to-day could repeat her impression on Paris, 
with its present knowledge not only of Spanish dancing, 
but also of feats of supreme virtuosity. 

Years only augmented the heat of the feud between 
the two goddesses. Europe divided itself into acrimo- 
nious factions of Taglionites and Ellslerites. The lat- 
ter were shocked, however, when, to bring to a flat com- 
parison the question of merit, Ellsler announced her in- 
tention to play La Sylphide, Taglioni had made the 
part her own; for another to undertake it was at least 
an act of doubtful delicacy. Nor was the idea better 
advised on grounds of strategy. La Sylphide in its 
composition was a tissue of the ethereal, even if Tag- 
lioni had not made it so by association with herself. 
Ellsler was insistently concrete. Effects followed 
causes. Her most ardent partisans could not say after 
the performance that the attempt spelled anything but 
failure. 

America's first vision of a star dancer was the direct 
consequence of Ellsler's vexation over the fiasco. Our 
fathers and grandfathers unharnessed the horses from 
her carriage, and counted it an honour to get a hand 
on the rope by which the carriage was drawn ; carpeted 
the streets where the carriage was to pass, strewed 
flowers where the divinity was to set her foot, and in 
all ways comported themselves as became the circum- 
stances, during the period of two years that she stayed 
on this side of the Atlantic. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 117 

Ellsler's professional collapse was connected not with 
art, but politics. After her return from America she 
danced several seasons in Milan. The ballet academy 
of la Scala had been founded in 181 1, interest in the 
art ran high, and was fed by the Austrian government 
as a hoped-for means of distracting the public mind from 
the revolutionary sentiment of the mid-century. In 
1848, on the occasion of a performance especially pro- 
vided to smooth over a crisis, it was arranged that the 
people of the ballet should wear a medal recently struck, 
representing the pope blessing a united Italy. Ellsler 
conceived a suspicion that the idea represented an intent 
to insult her as an Austrian; she refused to go on un- 
less the medals be taken off. Meantime the corps de 
ballet had made its entrance, wearing the medals. They 
were removed at the first opportunity, and promptly 
missed at the ballet's next entrance. The explanation 
of the change travelled through the house ; the premiere, 
when she entered, was received with hisses. Tense 
with political excitement, the audience saw in her only 
the representative of the power that controlled the Ital- 
ian sceptre. Her efforts received no answer but furi- 
ous insults. She fainted. 

After three comparatively uneventful years she re- 
tired, rich and — in the main — popular. Her contribu- 
tions to religion and charity had been impressive and 
so continued until her death in 1884. Her wealth was 
estimated at one and a quarter million dollars. Tag- 
lioni's end was in miserable contrast ; during part of her 
latter years she held a petty position as teacher of de- 
portment in a young ladies' school in England. She 
died lonely and forgotten, after a most unhappy old age. 

Among the many dancers brought out by the period 



ii8 THE DANCE 

of enthusiasm were three women of whose work the 
records have only the highest praise. To Carlotta 
Grisi, Gautier gave the credit of combining the fiery 
abandon and the light exquisiteness of the two great 
luminaries of the day. Fanny Cerito and Lucille Grahn 
were ranked with her. For Queen Victoria there was 
arranged a pas de quatre by Taglioni, Grisi, Cerito, and 
Grahn. That performance, in 1845, represents one of 
the climaxes of ballet history, including as it probably 
did the greatest sum total of choreographic ability that 
ever had been brought together. 

But it was the milestone at the top of a high mountain, 
from which the road turned downward. Except in 
England, Taglioni's prestige was dimmed. Queen Vic- 
toria's reign, however uplifting in various important re- 
spects, undeniably was depressing in its influence on all 
the imaginative arts; and it was an influence that 
reached far. Furthermore, the elements that consti- 
tuted opera began to assume new relative proportions. 
The voice of Jenny Lind called attention to the factor 
of singing. In the present day of subordination of the 
dancer to the singer, it is almost incredible that opera 
of seventy years ago assigned to the dancer the relative 
importance that the singer enjoys now; especially difli- 
cult is this conception to any one whose acquaintance 
with opera is confined to its production in America. 
(General indifference has reduced operatic ballet in this 
land to a level compared to which its condition in con- 
tinental Europe is enviable. Though reduced from past 
importance, in countries that support academies it has at 
least retained standards of execution. 

But the strictly modern interpretation of opera, min- 
imising choreography, has been accepted. New operas 



THE GOLDEN AGE 119 

are written in conformity with the altered model. It 
is likely that the present renaissance of dancing, though 
no less vital than any that have gone before, will effect 
little change in the art's importance in opera structure, 
which has become a distinct organism to be heard rather 
than seen. Aroused interest and intelligence inevitably 
will force improvement on old organisations, new ap- 
preciation will justify it from the box-office point of 
view. But the American dance-lover's hope lies in the 
new-old form of ballet pantomime. This is the expres- 
sion that the great new romantic movement has taken, 
as though in express recognition of those of us to whom 
the use of ears has not atrophied eyes. 

Against the suddenly discovered passion for singing, 
the art of Grisi, Cerito, Grahn and their colleagues could 
not hold public attention. Steadfastly the French and 
Italian academies held to their creeds of choreographic 
purity. Upon their fidelity to ideals the latter nine- 
teenth-century reign of artistic terror made no impres- 
sion ; to their preservation of the good is due the ability 
of the present romantic renaissance to come into its 
complete expression without the intervention of a cen- 
tury of rebuilding. Russia and Austria too had founded 
national academies for instruction along the lines made 
classic by Paris and Milan. Others followed. But it 
appears that the technical virtuosity of Taglioni had set 
a pace that was both difficult and misleading. Being a 
genius, perfection meant to her a means of expression. 
During a period in which no great genius appeared, 
efforts to win back the lost kingdom took the form of 
striving for technique as an object. The public was 
unjustly damned for failure to respond to marvellously 
executed students' exercises. With equal lack of jus- 



120 THE DANCE 

tice, it became fashionable to include the whole school 
of the ballet's art in the accusation of stiffness and 
artificiality. 

The half -century ending about 1908, during which the 
stage was given over to all the flashy choreographic 
counterfeits that mediocrity could invent, was saved 
from complete sterility by the dances that are rooted in 
the soil. Jigs and Reels, Hornpipes and Tarantellas held 
their own like hardy wild flowers in a garden of weeds ; 
like golden, opulent lilies, the Seguidillas of Spain held 
their heads above malformation and decadence. This 
is a fitting point at which to consider the nature of some 
of these ancient expressions of the heart of men who 
dwell away from courts. 



CHAPTER VI 

SPANISH DANCING 

SINCE earliest Occidental history, the dances of 
Spain have been famous. To-day their richness, 
variety and fundamental nobility give them a posi- 
tion in advance of any other group of national dances 
of the Occidental type. Whether certain of the Oriental 
expressions are superior to the Spanish is wholly a 
matter of point of view on dancing. But dancers and 
dance-lovers, of all beliefs and prejudices, unite in con- 
ceding to Spain the highest development of "character- 
istic'' or national dancing. More even: though the 
French and Italian ballets in general hold their schools 
to be the very fountainhead of the choreographic art, 
not a few disciples of the academies of Milan or Paris 
concede to Spanish dancing superiority over all, in that 
aspect of beauty that is concerned with majesty of line 
and posture. 

It is as though Terpsichore herself had chosen the 
dwellers of Iberia to guard her gifts to mankind. Ga- 
dir, the city now called Cadiz, was a little Paris in the 
day of the Carthaginian, with dancing as its most highly 
developed art and notable among its diversions. When 
the Romans took the city they were delighted with 
the dancers they found there ; for centuries after, Span- 
ish dancers remained a fashionable adjunct of great 
entertainment in the capital, and Cadiz the inexhaustible 
source of their supply. 

121 



122 THE DANCE 

When Rome, too infirm to resist, left Spain to be 
overrun by the Visigoth, she left the arts of the penin- 
sula to the mercy of a destroying barbarian. Architec- 
ture and statuary he demolished, books he burned. 
Dancing eluded his clumsy hand ; in places of retirement 
children were taught the steps and gestures that had 
crossed the sea from Egypt in the days of the Phoeni- 
cians. 

In the eighth century came the Moor : slayer, organ- 
iser, builder; fanatic, dreamer, poet; lover and creator 
of beauty in all its manifestations. His verses were epi- 
grams of agreeable and unexpected sounds, formed into 
phrases of eloquent metaphor. His architecture and its 
ornament, too, were epigrams ; combinations of graceful 
and simple lines and forms into harmonious symbols 
more eloquent than description. To him the dance was 
verse and decoration united, with music added; enter- 
tainment and stimulus to contemplation. Under his 
guardianship and tuition the Spanish dance strength- 
ened its hold on the people, and increased in scope. A 
certain class of it retains to-day a distinctly Moorish 
flavour. 

The ''Century of Gold" that followed the expulsion of 
the Moors and the discovery of America found the dance 
surrounded by conditions than which none could have 
been more favourable. Gold looted from the new con- 
tinent was lavished on masques and fiestas that emu- 
lated those of neighbouring monarchies ; courtiers were 
so preoccupied with the diversion that a memoir of the 
period contains a complaint that "sleep in any part of the 
palace has become impossible, since persons of all de- 
grees have taken to continuous strumming of the music 
of the ^arabanda/' The less exalted had in the dance 




La Malaguena y el Torero' 
Eduardo and Elisa Cansino 



To face page I2Z 



SPANISH DANCING 123 

an expression for every emotion, an exercise whose 
magic ennobled, and a magic whose exercise raised them 
above the reach of sordid cares. In the Church, while 
bishops in other parts of Europe were questioning or 
protesting the dance as an act of worship, their brothers 
in 'Ha tierra de Maria Santisima" were insisting upon it 
as a most appropriate part of the highest ritual. 

Colonies and dependencies fell away; the stream of 
gold flows in other channels. Uncomplaining the Span- 
iard retires into the house that once was animated with 
great companies of guests and hordes of servants. Re- 
duced ? Not at all ! A few intimates drop in after din- 
ner, bringing friendship and wit. There is always a 
glass of wine. His daughters will step some of the old 
dances in the patio; their younger brother has ''hands 
of gold to touch the guitar." An entertainment at once 
agreeable and becoming — the latter, if for no other rea- 
son, because it is Spanish ! 

To an extent there are grounds for the anxiety, some- 
times expressed, that modernism is melting away this 
tradition-worship. In Madrid there is an English 
queen ; tennis and tea become a cult to be followed with 
what semblance of gusto one can assume. San Sebas- 
tian is the summer resort of royalty, and of pleasure- 
seekers from all parts of Europe; its modernism is that 
of Paris or Vienna. Other cities, to the number of 
perhaps half a dozen, show consciousness of twentieth- 
century conditions. Among which conditions is, of 
course, an indiscriminating fondness for novelties for 
their own sake. And there is always at hand a numer- 
ous class of dancers to provide novelties in exchange for 
a moment's applause. 

In another country the national art would deteriorate 



124 THE DANCE 

under these hostile influences. But in Spain, not read- 
ily. Her dances are an organism, rooted in the soil, 
with forms as definite as the growth of a flower. Men- 
tion dancing to an Aragones, and it means to him the 
jota of his province. Let other steps be added to it, he 
will resent them ; in his eyes they occupy about the same 
place as a third arm would on a drawing of the human 
figure — a monstrosity, and uninteresting. No less than 
Aragon have other regions their local dances and their 
choreographic creed, with stupendous pride in both. 
The steps are handed down like the tunes of old music, 
with the ideals for their execution. And, high in im- 
portance as conservers of their classic national forms, 
there exists a fine spirit of artistry among a number of 
the prominent masters. Jose Otero of Seville and An- 
tonio Cansino, a Sevillano who for some years has 
taught in Madrid, are prominent among a number to 
whom the preservation of Spain's choreographic purity 
is almost a holy cause. 

The dancing of Spain divides into two schools: the 
purely Iberian, exempt from Gipsy influence, which is 
known as the Classic; and the work of Gipsy origin and 
character, which is generically known as the Flamenco, 
The two overlap to the extent of a few dances that par- 
take of the elements of both, and lend themselves to exe- 
cution in the manner of either. On either side of this 
common ground the two schools are completely distinct 
in style, and almost equally so in gesture and posture, 
having in common only a limited number of steps. In 
general effect their individualities are absolute. 

The work of the Gipsy is, above all, sinuous. His 
body and arms are serpentine. His hips, shoulders and 
chest show a mutual independence of action that would 



SPANISH DANCING ^ 125 

worry an anatomist, but which allows the dancer limit- 
less freedom for indulgence in the grotesque. He de- 
lights in the most violent contrasts. A series of steps 
of cat-like softness will be followed by a clatter of heels 
that resembles Gatling-fire, the two extremes brought 
into direct juxtaposition. His biggest jump will be pre- 
ceded by movement so subtle that it is less seen than 
sensed. 

In all circumstances the Gipsy is an irrepressible pan- 
tomimist. Of the word and the gesture of his ordinary 
communication, it is highly probable that the gesture is 
of the greater importance. He likes to talk, and his 
words come at a speed that makes them indistinguishable 
to any but a practised ear, the confusion heightened by 
the free intermixture of Gipsy argot. But the continu- 
ous accompaniment of facial expression, movement of 
body and play of hands is sufficient by itself. 

The dance gives full employment to the Gipsy's mim- 
etic powers, and in fact serves primarily as an emotional 
expression. His dances are not composed, or "rou- 
tined.'' He has his alphabet of steps and choreographic 
movements, and with these he extemporises. By some 
telepathy most puzzling to those who know the most 
about Gipsy dancing, the accompanists are not disturbed 
by any of the dancer's changes of mood, however sud- 
den. The instant drop from extreme speed to the oppo- 
site never traps the guitarist into a mistake; and his 
air is remarkable, too, in preserving the sentiment as 
well as the time of the dance. 

Anything like the full scope of Gipsy dancing is rarely 
revealed to any not of that race; because, done with 
abandon, it is an intimate revelation of nature. El Gi- 
tano is conscious of his racial and social inferiority, de- 



126 THE DANCE 

spite the arrogance he likes to assume. He is a vaga- 
bond Hving in waste places and by means, usually, of 
petty imposture, tolerated because of his impudent but 
very genuine wit. For these reasons a dance for pay 
becomes a scheme to extract the most money possible 
for the least work. And the work itself, though skil- 
ful, is accompanied by a self-consciousness directly op- 
posed to the essentially Gipsy element of his dance. 

A Spaniard who has got past the Gipsy's reserve is 
Eduardo Cansino, the dancer. As such it is an object 
for him to see their work at its best; from their all- 
night parties he has acquired steps. His diplomatic 
equipment consists, first, of an acquaintance with the 
Gipsy language, along with ability to make himself 
agreeable. Understanding of Flamenco dancing en- 
ables him to aid intelligently in the jaleo, that accom- 
paniment of finger-snapping, hand-clapping and half- 
chanted, half-shouted phrases that make the Spanish 
dancing atmosphere what it is. (In Gipsy dancing the 
jaleo is "tricky," owing not only to suddenness of 
changes, but to frequent digressions into counter-time.) 
When asked to dance, Eduardo's hold on the company's 
respect is brought to a climax, as there probably is no 
better performer among the men of Spain. And withal 
he IS willing to buy manzanilla as long as expediency 
suggests. 

According to Eduardo, it is the exception when a 
dance performed at a Gipsy party fails to tell a story. 
Usually the story is improvised from a suggestion of the 
moment. Satire is popular ; if one of the company has 
undergone an unpleasant experience in love, trade, or 
dealings with the guardia civil, it is capital for the dan- 
cer. Imitations of carriage and mannerisms of the per- 



SPANISH DANCING 127 

sons represented are carried to that degree of realism 
made possible by the Gipsy's eternally alert observa- 
tion and his expressive body ; and he has no artistic creed 
to cause him to question the value of literal imitation. 
But the quality of greatness is not what one expects in 
Gipsy dancing; its contribution is the extreme of skil- 
ful, surprising grotesquery. 

Notwithstanding the limitations that accompany an 
insistence on physical facts, the Gipsy's rendering of the 
great emotions is said to be impressive at the moment, 
even though it fails to record any lasting impression. 
Love, as in the dancing of almost all peoples, is a favour- 
ite motive, with its many attendants of allurement, 
reticence, jealousy, pursuit and surrender. But the rep- 
ertoire is limited only by the Gipsy's scope of emotion — 
hatred, revenge, triumph and grief — his heart is prob- 
ably about the same as any one's else, only less repressed 
by brain. So far is dancing from being merely an act 
of merriment that it is used in mourning the Gipsy 
dead. 

Flamenco dances as seen in theatres and cafes are 
compositions made from the elements of Gipsy work; 
choreographic words grammatically related as is neces- 
sary, among other considerations, for accompaniment 
by orchestras of sober and dependable beings. The task 
has been admirably done; la Farruca, el Tango, and 
el Garrotin, the most popular Flamenco dances at pres- 
ent, preserve to admiration the Gipsy qualities. No less 
credit is due the composers of their accepted musical 
accompaniments; the indescribable Oriental relation of 
melody and rhythm, the Gipsy passion for surprise, they 
have preserved and blended in a manner charming and 
characteristic. It is only within the past fifty years that 



128 THE DANCE 

the process of adaptation began. Jose Otero, in his 
chatty Tratado del Baile, traces the movement to its 
beginning; which Hke many another beginning, was the 
result less of foresight than of desperation. The case 
was of a dancer whose Classic work failed to earn him 
a living. He strung together some Gipsy steps as a 
last resort and without hope, and was allowed to try 
them in a cafe cantante in Seville. Their success was 
instantaneous, and continues unabated. Even in the ab- 
sence of the Gipsy's inimitable pantomime, there is com- 
fort in seeing his dances under conditions of freedom 
from argument about extra charges for nothing at all, 
whines concerning starvation and sickness equally imag- 
inary, care not to lose one's watch, and pressure to buy 
useless and foolish souvenirs at shameless prices. Par- 
ties to visit the Triana of Seville or the Albaicirt of 
Granada are great fun, but a terrible strain on the pa- 
tience of the person who accepts the responsibility for 
his friends' amusement. 

If the Tango and its Flamenco kinsmen fail to conquer 
a permanent place in the Spanish repertoire, it will be 
through their exclusion from the respectable Spanish 
family. The daughter of the house does not learn dan- 
cing of the Gipsy type except in the unusual case that 
she is preparing for a dancer's career. The Flamenco 
has picturesqueness and "salt," but of dignity less. To 
the Spaniard, that which lacks dignity is vulgar, how- 
ever witty or graceful. Witty or graceful things may 
be enjoyed, though dignity be lacking; but the doing of 
such things is another matter. The Gipsy's untutored 
point of view on obscenity is a further argument against 
their admission into the home. It is not a structural 
part of any of the Flamenco work. But association has 



SPANISH DANCING 



129 




The Garrotin 
The Garrotin. 



Typical "Flamenco" Poses. 
(From work of Seiiorita Elisa Cansino.) 

The Tango. 
The Tango. The Garrotin. 



130 THE DANCE 

created a sentiment, and against sentiment logic is help- 
less. 

La Farruca probably exploits more completely than 
any of its fellows the varied resources of the Flamenco. 
After one becomes accustomed to it sufficiently to be 
able to dominate one's own delight and astonishment, 
one may look at it as a study of contrasts, carried to the 
n^h power. Now the performers advance with undula- 
tion so slow, so subtle, that the Saracenic coquetry of 
liquid arms and feline body is less seen than felt. Mys- 
tery of movement envelops their bodies like twilight. 
Of this perhaps eight measures, when — crash! Pres- 
tissimo! Like Gatling-fire the volley of heel-tapping. 
The movements have become the eye-baffling darting of 
swallows. No preparation for the change, no crescendo 
nor accelerando; in the matter of abruptness one is re- 
minded of some of the effects familiar in the playing of 
Hungarian orchestras. 

Another use of contrast produces a sensation not un- 
like the surprise you get when, in the course of drink- 
ing one of those warm concoctions of sweetened claret, 
you unexpectedly bite a piece of cinnamon, and during 
a few seconds taste vividly the contradictory flavours 
of both spice and sweetness. The music is moving in 
a flowing legato. In counter-time to the notes is a 
staccato of crisp taps — of light, ^'snappy" hand-claps, 
and dry-sounding sole-taps on the floor, two varieties 
of accent alternating one with the other. Success of 
the effect depends on the very perfection of tempo, to 
begin with, and after that on a command of the quality 
of sound in the taps. A good deal of attention is given 
to the cleanness and brilliancy of the tone of these notes, 
as well as the cultivation of a good sparkling "tak" in 



SPANISH DANCING 131 

snapping the fingers. Many performers carry in each 
hand a series of three ringing finger-snaps, loud enough 
to carry sharply to the back of their smallish theatres. 

It is in respect to finesse of such details that most non- 
Spaniards condemn themselves to the mediocre when 
they attempt Spanish dancing. The mere steps can be 
learned by any one with an intelligence and two sound 
legs. Many students approximate the style. But the 
seemingly little things often act as the big pit-falls. The 
castanets, for instance, expose cruelly the lack of finish 
of many a pretender to laurels in the Spanish field; in 
the hands of their master they can ring, or sing, or click, 
or purr, as the mood of the dance suggests. To an 
amateur it would be illuminating to see the care a pro- 
fessional exercises in mating the little instruments in 
pairs. They vary in pitch, and have almost personal 
whims. For instance, in cold weather they fail to do 
themselves justice unless they are carried to the per- 
formance in an inside pocket. But this is straying from 
the Flamenco; castanets are in the main an adjunct of 
the Classic. 

Returning to the subject of contrasts, the Flamenco, 
more than any other style in the world, perhaps, insists 
on difference between the work of man and woman. It 
is seen in the greater relaxation of the woman's body, 
the more complete elimination of angles from her move- 
ments. The degree of rigidity that the man's body 
should maintain is a point of justifiable difference be- 
tween artists ; so with the extent to which his movements 
should follow the lines of curves. But that curve should 
be the theme controlling the woman's movement and 
carriage, all agree. The result is to the eye as a duet 
of guitar and flute is to the ear. Following the compari- 



132 THE DANCE 

son further, tHe dance duet does not confine itself to 
unison — identical movements of the two performers — 
any more than does the duet of music; and this correla- 
tion of two harmonised parts is not the least of the 
causes of madness imparted to spectators of good 
dancing. 

In all dances evolved to the plane of art, a common 
device is to end a phrase with a turn — a pirouette, or 
something simpler, according to the character of the 
work. This general rule the Spanish follow. But look 
how the Farruca makes such a turn the opportunity for 
one of its myriad contrasts ! 

The renverse of the ballet has a kindred turn in la 
vuelta quebrada. Both are executed with an arm al- 
ways extended, so as to describe the maximum circle; 
of the vuelta quebrada the movement is low^ and hori- 
zontal, with everything done in such a way as to give 
the impression of a smooth, oily roll. The Farruca 
leads the woman up to this turn, or vuelta, through a 
series of short steps. Now visualise the man's part at 
the same time : as the woman enters her flowing vuelta, 
a mighty leap lands the man in the position of stooping; 
instantly he starts rising with a spiral movement that 
takes the form of a pirouette and so continues through 
the circle. The surprise the eye receives from the har- 
monised contrast between the extended horizontally 
moving sweep and the vertical spiral uplift, with its 
kaleidoscopic change of levels, seems never to grow less. 
And if the man makes it a double pirouette instead of 
a single, why, one simply shouts aloud with the joyous 
discovery that the law of gravitation and a lot of other 
cumbersome things have suddenly been abolished. 

The Tango at the present moment familiar in North 



SPANISH DANCING 



133 







"Flamenco" Poses. 

The F arnica: devices to mark counter-time. 

The Farruca-' typical group. 

The Tango: finish of a turn. The Tango: start of a turn. 

The Farruca: man's preparation for The Farruca-' pito or finger-snap- 

a pirouette. ping. 

(From work of Eduardo and Elisa Cansino.) 



134 THE DANCE 

America found its way here from Argentina. In the 
form it takes here, its relation to the Tango of Spain 
is Httle more than a coincidence of names. In none of 
the Spanish dances does the man's arm ever go around 
the woman's waist — the purely Spanish, that is. Off- 
shoots and corruptions to be found in the Latin Amer- 
icas do not signify. The Spanish Tango is of the 
Flamenco group. It is a solo for a woman. By con- 
vention she performs it wearing a man's hat, the manip- 
ulation of which gives some grotesquely graceful occu- 
pation to her hands. Apart from this it is distinguished 
from the others of the group mainly by the sequence 
in which steps are combined; in spirit, elemental steps 
and poses, it conforms to the type of its family. 

El Garrotin is distinguished by the importance it gives 
the hands. They repel, warn, invite ; half the time they 
are held behind the back. So indirect are their hinted 
communications, so alien are their movements to any- 
thing in the Occidental way of thinking, that they unite 
with the girl's over-the-shoulder smile in an allurement 
no less than devilish. 

Other dances of the same school are Marianas and 
Alegrias, long familiar. New ones introduce the names 
of las Moritas and Bulerias. Each has its personality, 
but all are composed of the Gipsy steps, performed in 
the sinuous manner, and rich with contrasts of fast and 
slow, soft and energetic movements. All are adorned 
with the stamping, sole-tapping, clapping and finger- 
snapping already described; though Marianas, as a 
quasi-Classic, may be performed with castanets. All 
moreover, are costumed alike, as indicated in the sketches 
and photographs, most of which in this chapter were 
made possible by the courtesy of Eduardo Cansino and 



SPANISH DANCING 135 

his sister Elisa, of the family of one of the most capable 
masters in Spain. The man's suit is the habitual street 
dress of the Andalusian torero. It may represent a re- 
tiring taste by being of grey or brown cloth. But if it 
belong to one of those typical Sevillanos who believe that 
a man is an important decorative feature of the land- 
scape, it may be of velvet — blue, wine-colour, purple in 
any of its shades, or jet-black. With the little pendant 
coat-button ornaments of gilt, as they may be ; the silk 
sash, rose or scarlet, just showing under the waistcoat ; 
with the shirt ruffled, and the collar fastened with link 
buttons, as it ought to be ; and the whole animated with 
the game-cock air that the torero assumes as befitting 
a public man, it is a costume not lacking in gallantry. 

For the woman, convention has strained for a sub- 
stitute for the inanely garish, shapeless garments of the 
Gipsy sister — a good note of colour they make on the 
hillside, but in all truth, a poor model for dressing when 
placed among formalised surroundings. The conclu- 
sion is a compromise shocking, on first impression, to 
the ideals of the Spanish dance. But, as though to con- 
firm the argument of the futurist painters, that colour- 
harmony is a matter of what you are accustomed to, 
you grow into an acceptance of it. Many people even 
like it. It has indeed this merit, that it is a realisation 
of the Gipsy's dream of elegance. Beginning with the 
manton — the long-fringed flowered shawl — half of these 
hailarinas of the Flamenco seem to patronise some spe- 
cial frenzied loom that supplies their class alone. The 
richness of design that you saw on the manton of the 
lady in the next box at last Sunday's corrida you find 
replaced here in el teatro de variedades by an anarchy 
of colour, and poppies of the size of a man's hat. The 



136 THE DANCE 

skirt is stiffened in the bell-shape surviving other days, 
and well adapted to composition with Spanish steps; 
but the colours are of the piercing brilliancy attainable 
only by spangles. Orange, carmine, emerald-green and 
cerulean-blue are the favourite palette from which the 
scheme is selected, with the unit of design of a size that 
makes more than two of them impossible on the same 
skirt. Nevertheless, one accepts it with custom, aided 
by the seduction of the dance — which has been knqwn 
to secure for its performers pardon for transgressions 
graver, in some eyes, than crimes against colour. 

Artists there are, of course, who use the colour and 
spangles with taste and style, just as there are those of 
high ability and seriousness who select the Flamenco 
on which to build reputation. For dignity, however, we 
turn sooner or later to the Classic. 

In Andalusia, the first dance you will hear named is 
las Sevillanas — ^unless you happen to be in Seville, 
where the same dance is known as Seguidillas, The 
latter word lacks explicit significance. It applies to a 
form of verse, thence to analogous phrasing in musical 
composition, then to a structure of dance. In general 
it denotes a composition of three or more stanzas, or 
coplas, repeating the same music but changing the theme 
of the step. Various provinces and even vicinities have 
their special Seguidillas. The number of these and other 
dance-forms indigenous to Spain is uncounted, so far as 
we know ; certainly any complete description of them in- 
dividually would furnish material for many hundred 
pages of print, especially if the list should include the 
widely scattered derivatives. Mexico, Cuba, and vari- 
ous countries of South America have their local compo- 
sitions; but of these many are mere degenerations of 



SPANISH DANCING 



137 



their original models, and many are compounded with 
steps of the Indians. Since none has contributed any- 
thing of consequence, this chapter's necessary concen- 
tration on the work of Spain itself involves little real 
sacrifice. 

It is Sevillanas whose easier movements are among 
the first undertaken by every well-reared Andalusian 




"Las Sevillanas/' 
Grouping at pause in first copla. School of Don Jose Otero, of Seville. 

child, whose adequate execution is half the fame of most 
/great Spanish dancers. Of all the dances, Otero calls 
it "the most Spanish." Yet it gives the spectator few 
detached pictures to carry away in memory. Its merit 
is in its cumulative choreographic argument. 

Very broadly speaking, the prevailing foot-work of 
the Seguidillas family is the pas de Basque — or, in Span- 
ish, paso de Vasco, Turns, advances and retreats are 



138 THE DANCE 

almost incessant. Variety of step is secured by fre- 
quent fouettes and fouette tours (figures 43 to 46), the 
leg sweep in the latter being usually "inward/' the foot, 
with most performers (at present) raised more than 
waist-high. Swinging steps, it will be noticed; choppy 
elements such as battements, entrechats and the like are, 
by distinction, the elements of the sharper work of the 
North. Sevillanas makes the feet less important than 
the hands and arms. These, however bewildering they 
are made to appear, follow a simple theme of opposi- 
tion, as for instance: (i) left arm horizontally ex- 
tended to the side, right arm across the chest; (2) right 
arm extended upward, left forearm across the back. As 
the simplest movement of club-swinging is incomprehen- 
sible to the person to whom it never has been explained, 
so with the arms in Sevillanas, with the bewilderment 
multiplied by the play of line effected by the arms of a 
couple. 

The body is held with a combination of erectness and 
suppleness that is Spain's own; sympathetic to every 
move of hand or foot, yet always controlled and always 
majestic. The essence of this queen of dances is not 
in step or movement, but in its traditional style plus a 
steadily increasing enrichment through the successive 
coplas — an enrichment that depends principally on the 
perfection of team work at a rapid tempo, and one that 
adds greatly to the subtle difficulties. Many performers 
will inform you that a sixth copla does not exist. Of 
those who can execute it adequately, the majority re- 
serve it for competitions to present as a surprise. 

The scope of moods from beginning to end of Sevil- 
lanas gives play to the lyric and the epic ; allurement and 
threat ; coquetry and triumph. It is a blend of the wine 




"El Bolero" 
Typical moment in first copla (i) — Finish of a phrase (2) 



To face page 138 




"La Jota Aragonesa" 
Type of movement Finish of a turn 

A pirouette 
Kneeling position Woman's sitting position 



To face page ijg 



SPANISH DANCING 139 

of Andalusia with her flowers and her latent tragedy. 
Not that it is particularly a vehicle for pantomime. 
Rather its suggestions are conveyed as are the motives 
of flowers, or architecture — by relations and qualities 
of line and form that work upon the senses by alchemy 
no more understood than that of music. The accumu- 
lating intricacy has been so artfully designed that, as 
the dance progresses, its performers actually seem to 
free themselves from the restrictions of earth. Each 
new marvel tightens the knot of emotion in the throat; 
shouts invoking divine blessings on the mother of the 
hailarina — ''Que Dios bendiga tu madreT — unite with 
the tumult of the jaleo. For shouting may save one 
from other emotional expressions less becoming. 

The music contributes to this hysteria, of course. 
But, with no accompaniment but their own castanets, a 
good team can work the magic. That might be con- 
sidered a test of the quality of composition in a dance, 
as well as of execution. 

So gracious, so stately, so rich in light and shade is 
Sevillanas, that it alone gives play to all the qualities 
needed to make a great artist. When, a few summers 
ago, Rosario Guerrero charmed New York with her 
pantomime of The Rose and the Dagger, it was the first 
two coplas of this movement-poem that charmed the 
dagger away from the bandit. The same steps glorified 
Carmencita in her day; and Otero, now popular as a 
singer in the Opera in Paris. All three of these god- 
desses read into their interpretation a powerful idea of 
majesty, which left it none the less seductive. Taking 
it at a comparatively slow tempo, the perfection of every 
detail had its highest value. A new generation of per- 
formers has been rather upset by a passing mode of rapid 



140 



THE DANCE 



foot-work, and under its influence too many of them tend 
to rush the dance and so detract from its majesty. True 
it is that a great work of art can stand a good deal of 
abuse; but any menace to such a work as the one dis- 
cussed, points out the need of a national academy, where 




the treasures of the dancing art could be preserved from 
possible whims of even an artistically intelligent public, 
and the compliance of a non-resisting majority of artists. 
Unlike most great European nations, Spain has no na- 
tional academy of the dance. 

Fanny Ellsler electrified the America of our fathers' 
boyhood days with her interpretation of la Cachucha. 
Zorn's Grammar presents a choro-stenographic record 
of it, showing few elements that do not occur in Sevil- 
lanas. La Cachucha itself has disappeared from the 
Peninsula — practically at least, if not absolutely. Its 
existence is in printed records and a few old people's 
memories. The inference is that it was at a high pitch 
of popularity at the time of Ellsler's sojourn in Spain, 
and that Sevillanas subsequently absorbed it. Showing 



SPANISH DANCING 141 

the operation of an old process : ''Our buildings and our 
weapons of war are renewed from day to day. . . . 
Chairs, cupboards, tables, lamps, candlesticks are also 
changed. It is the same with our games and dances, 
our music and songs. The Zarabanda has gone; Se- 
giiidillas are in fashion; which, in their turn, will disap- 
pear to make room for newer dances.'' So wrote Mateo 
Aleman, in the sixteenth century. He might a little 
more exactly have said "reappear in" instead of ''disap- 
pear to make room for." 

Sevillanas, as was said before, is Seville's special 
arrangement of Seguidillas. Valencianas and Ar- 
agonesas are among the modifying geographic words 
also in use; Vuillier quotes also Gitanas, Mollaras, 
Gallegas and Quipuzcoanas. These terms as localising 
modifications of Seguidillas may be no longer current. 
But their existence is significant, as indicating a parent 
trunk from which many local dance forms have 
branched. It seems pretty safe to infer that acquaint- 
ance with the general characteristics of the Seguidillas 
type gives us an idea of the essentials of some of the 
dances of very early times, by whatever names they may 
have been known. Like Sevillanas and la Cachucha, 
el Fandango (which as a name has retired into the moun- 
tains of the North, and otherwise is preserved in the 
opera La Nozze de Figaro) is recorded as being a spe- 
cies of Seguidillas. The castanets are a link that binds 
the family, logically or otherwise, to earliest history. 

The Fandango, though restrained in the theatre, 
seems at all times to have been danced in less formal 
gathering places in a manner more or less worldly. A 
story pertaining to it was written in the seventeenth cen- 
tury. The Pope (according to the story) heard that 



142 THE DANCE 

the Fandango was scandalous, and as a means of stop- 
ping its practice, proposed excommunication as a pen- 
alty for its performance. A consistory was debating 
the issue, when a cardinal proposed that the accused 
was entitled to an opportunity to defend itself. This 
seemed reasonable, and the dancers were summoned. 

"Their grace and vivacity," says Davillier, ''soon 
drove the frowns from the brows of the Fathers, whose 
souls were stirred by lively emotion and a strange pleas- 
ure. One by one their Eminences began to beat time 
with hands and feet, till suddenly their hall became a 
ballroom; they sprang up, dancing the steps, imitating 
the gestures of the dancers. After this trial, the Fan- 
dango was fully pardoned and restored to honour/' 

Whatever the lack of basis for the tale, it is a fact 
that the Church in Spain has recognised the dance as 
an art that, like music, lends itself to religious ritual. 
Seville Cathedral still has occasions for the solemn 
dance of los Seises. In 1762, dancers were taken from 
Valencia to help celebrate the laying of the foundation- 
stone of Lerida Cathedral. Instances might be multi- 
plied at length. 

The costume most picturesque and romantic that 
woman has at her disposal for these dances is that of the 
madronero — the network dotted with little black balls, 
draped over the hips. Imagine the bodice black velvet, 
and the skirt golden-yellow satin, and you have a spot- 
and-colour translation of Andalusia. But the dress of 
the madronero is not often to be seen; the spangled 
Flamenco costume is publicly accepted as the dress of a 
Spanish dancing girl. 

The manton should be draped over the shoulders like 
a shawl in la Jot a Aragonesa and other dances indig- 



SPANISH DANCING 143 

enous to central and northern provinces. It is Fla- 
menco to fold it diagonally to form a triangle, and wrap 
it around the body in such a way that the depth of the 
triangle lies on the front of the body; the apex points 
downward, and is arranged to fall to one side of the 
centre. The other two ends are crossed over the back 
and brought forward over the shoulders; or one end 
may be tucked in, and the more made of the end that 
remains in sight. 

The dance in which we see the white mantilla to 
which the Spanish girl owes a portion of her fame is 
la Malaguena y el Torero. Perhaps owing to the 
weight of the man's costume proper to the dance, it is 
not often performed; for the bullion-adorned dress of 
the torero is of a weight suggestive of anything but airy 
foot-work. 

The characters of the piece — it is one of the very 
few Spanish mimetic dances — are represented, as might 
be expected, in a little flirtation. Of the three move- 
ments, the first is an animated paseo, or promenade, the 
torero wrapped in the capa de gala prescribed by cere- 
mony as essential for matadores and banderilleros dur- 
ing their entrance parade into the bull-ring. The torero 
is followed by the girl, her face demure in the half- 
shade of the overhanging mantilla. A manton carried 
folded over her arm, suggestive of a torero's cape, gives 
to the pantomime the key of fantasy; and her weapon 
of coquetry is a fan. 

An elaborate series of advances, turns, meetings and 
passings prepares the torero to acknowledge that he 
notices the girl. (Mr. Bernard Shaw was not the orig- 
inal discoverer of feminine initiative in man-and- 
woman relations.) He looks at her and is delighted. 



144 THE DANCE 

The music changes, and the second movement, la mim- 
ica, begins. He will spread his capa for her to walk 
over; but first he must flourish it through a couple of 
the movements familiar to patrons of the corrida. A 
veronica — ''OUT roars the crowd, whose memory in- 
stantly correlates with the writhing cape the vision 
of a furious bull. A farol throws the brilliantly col- 
oured cloth like a huge flower high in the air : a suerte 
de capa always magnificent, one of the ever-recurring 
flashes of surprise that make the corrida irresistible 
despite its faults. In consecutive movement the capa 
opens and settles fanlike before the girl, the boy kneel- 
ing as she passes. Rising, he tosses his cap for her to 
step on. A touch of realism, this! Andalusian usage 
permits this compliment, with the spoken wish that God 
may bless the senorita's mother. The second copla 
draws to a close with the boy's pantomime merging into 
dance step as he becomes more attracted to the girl. 
She is now evading, alluring, and reproving, while her 
movements insensibly succumb more and more to the 
dance music which has replaced the promenade tempo 
of the first part. The third copla is the dance — el baile; 
capa, fan and manton are discarded for castanets. The 
steps are of the Segiddillas type; the number ends with 
the incredibly sudden transformation of a series of 
rapid turns into a group as motionless as statuary. This 
abrupt stop is a characteristic of Spanish dancing in 
general that always has been commented on, and ap- 
provingly, by its non-Spanish observers. 

Las Malaguenas also employs mantilla and fan. 
This sprightly member of the Seguidillas family has no 
elements peculiar to itself, yet its insistent use of little 
steps adapts it to rapid foot-work. Manchegas is of the 



SPANISH DANCING 



H5 




Groups in "la Malaguena y el Torero." 
(From work of Eduardo and Elisa Cansino.) 



146 THE DANCE 

same nature. The two are often performed immedi- 
ately after dances of less action, for the sake of variety. 

'The Fandango inflames, the Bolero intoxicates," 
wrote an enthusiast of other days. And in respect to 
the latter the truth of his observation may be proved, 
since the Bolero is still with us, and always intoxi- 
cates every one of its spectators that is not deaf and 
blind. 

Its composition is attributed to Cerezo, a famous dan- 
cer of the early part of the eighteenth century. Ma- 
terial for speculation is furnished by one of its steps in 
particular, the cuarta, identical with the ballet's entre- 
chat-quatre. The invention of the entrechat is credited 
to the French dancer Camargo, who was not born until 
after the advent of the Bolero. The question is : Did 
the Bolero take the cuarta from Camargo, or did she, 
a progressive in her day, merely invent the name ''entre- 
chaf and apply it to a ''lifted" cuarta? Certain it is 
that it fits its requirements in the Bolero like a key in its 
lock. It is used in a passage dedicated to brilliancy, 
to which motive this twinkling, gravity-defying step is 
suited above almost all others. As rendered by the 
woman, it is dainty, as in the French ballet. But the 
Spanish man treats it in a manner that puts it into a 
category by itself, and transforms it from a little step 
to an evolution that seems suddenly to occupy the entire 
stage. 

The cuarta at the height of the leap is only his be- 
ginning. As he descends, he kicks one foot up and 
backward, in a manner to give him a half-turn in the air. 
The leg movement opens up the lines of the elevated 
figure, giving it a sudden growth comparable to one of 
those plants that the Oriental magician develops from 



SPANISH DANCING 



'47 




Miscellaneous 
Los Panaderos : group turning. 
The Iota of Aragon : typical group. 
Las Sevillanas: use of primitive 
foot position. 






Spanish Notes. 

The Bolero: a turn in the air. 
Castanets : Classic, tied to finger. 
Flamenco, tied to thumb. 
Seises of Seville Cathedral. 



148 THE DANCE 

seed to maturity while you wink. The expansion is 
augmented by the extension of the arms at the opportune 
moment. Altogether, the spectator is prepared to be- 
lieve that all physical law has been suspended in defer- 
ence to the convenience of poetic motion. Davillier's 
observation that "the Bolero intoxicates" is wholly in- 
adequate. 

The dance is in triple time, and arranged in three 
parts. The second divides the work of the two per- 
formers into solos, admitting whatever sensational steps 
each chooses to present, so long as they conform to the 
strong, aggressive style that tradition gives the dance. 
In this part are the cuartas, which good Spanish per- 
formers execute as cleanly as any French premiere. 
The man's work may include a series of jumps, straight 
up, opening the legs out to horizontal ; not in itself an 
attractive step, but an exaggeration of the idea of the 
Bolero. Throughout, the work is vigourous and sharp, 
of the character created by battements great and small, 
coupes, and choppily executed brises. The management 
of the castanets is a difficult addition to such vigourous 
foot-work, and important. To sustain, or rather con- 
stantly augment the excitement proper to the dance, 
the crash of the recurrent ''tr-r-ra, tak-ta ! tr-r-r-a, tak- 
ta!" must never be dulled for an instant, nor fail of 
perfection in rhythm. The double control is seldom ac- 
quired by any but Spaniards, if ever, and even in Spain 
it is none too common. 

Every lover of dancing probably thinks of his favour- 
ite compositions as personalities. ''Queenly Sevillanas" 
inevitably is the way of thinking of that flower of An- 
dalusia. In similar manner memory puts together 
words, "the noble Bolero f' Brusque but fine, strong 



SPANISH DANCING 



149 



and justly proud, it sings of iron in the blood, as Sevil- 
lanas exhales the spicy fragrance of hot night air. 

Of los Panaderos the introductory measures are ded- 
icated to the elaborate salutations appropriate to the 
etiquette of other days. The dance in general follows 
the motive of light coquetry through a pantomimic first 
part, concluding with a dance of the Seguidillas type, 
with castanets. Interest is enriched by the dance's 




Two Groups in "Los Panaderos/' 
(From work of Eduardo and Elisa Cansino.) 

proper costume. The girl's vestido de madronos has 
been described in connection with another dance, and the 
same reserved indulgence in the ornate is seen also in 
the attire of the man. The velvet jacket permits sub- 
dued but opulent colour ; instead of buttonholes it has a 
lively design of cord loops. Down the sides of the 
breeches runs a broad band of colour that would be too 
violent were it not broken up by a superimposed band 
of heavy black cord lace, through the open pattern of 



150 THE DANCE 

which the background silk twinkles like jewels. It is 
a costume to make an impression at a distance or to 
tickle the eye on close inspection; the tasselled leather 
leggings are delicately adorned with scroll-pattern 
traced in stitching, and other details are elaborated with 
the same minute care. 

Of ail the energetic dances of the land of the dance, 
the one farthest from any concession to physical infirm- 
ity is la Jot a Aragonesa. Here is no vehicle for Anda- 
lusian languor nor yet for the ceremonies of courts. 
The industrious peasant of Aragon is hard of muscle 
and strong of heart, and so is his daughter, and their 
strength is their pride. For indolence they have no 
sympathy, be it in ermine or rags; and certainly if 
indolence ever forgets itself and strays into the Jota, 
it passes a bad five minutes. 

It is a good, sound fruit of the soil, full of substance, 
and inviting to the eye as good sound fruit may be. 
No academy's hothouse care has been needed to develop 
or protect it; the hand of the peasant has cultivated 
without dirtying it. And that, when you look over the 
history of dancing in some more progressive nations, 
is a pretty significant thing. The people of Aragon are 
not novelty-hunters. Perhaps that is why they have 
been satisfied, while perfecting the dance of their prov- 
ince, not to pervert it from its proper motive — which 
is to express in terms of poetry both the vigour and the 
innocence of rustic, romping, boy-and-girl courtship. 

A trace of stiffness of limb and angularity of move- 
ment, proper to the Jota, imbue it with a continuous 
hint of the rural grotesque. Yet, as the angular spire 
of the Gothic cathedral need be no less graceful than 
the rounded dome of the mosque, so the Jota concedes 



SPANISH DANCING 151 

nothing in beauty to the more rolling movement of the 
dance of Andalusia. It is broad and big of movement; 
the castanets most of the time are held strongly out at 
arm's length. One of its many surprises is in the man- 
ner of the pauses: the movement is so fast, the pauses 
are so electrically abrupt, and the group (or ^'picture,'' 
as our stage-folk call it) in which the dancers hold 
themselves statue-like through a couple of measures is 
so suddenly formed, that a layman's effort to understand 
the transition would be like trying to analyse the move- 
ments of the particles in a kaleidoscope. Out of a 
dazzle of cross-tied white legs there snaps on to your 
retina a vision of a couple face to face, each on one 
knee; one, two, three, four — on each count the support- 
ing knee comes up, its mate rhythmically bumps the 
floor. One measure ; again they are in flight. Another 
stop, as from a collision with some invisible but im- 
movable body — the girl is established in a seated posi- 
tion on the floor, madly playing her castanets, the boy 
flashing pirouettes around her. Bien parada, palomita! 
pero anda! Another cyclone, a crescendo of energy in 
the thump of sandalled feet and the pulse-lifting clat- 
ter of castanets, and — dead stop! She is impudently 
perched on his knee. Raised with the paisanos around 
you to the plane of the happy gods, you too are stand- 
ing, shouting your rhythm-madness, tearing at scarf- 
pin, bouquet or anything to throw to the performers. 

Down to the tuning of the castanets is emphasised 
the difference between this dance of the stalwart up- 
landers and the more liquid expression of Andalusia. 
It can be understood how, with the instruments fastened 
to the thumb, and hanging so as not to touch the palm, 
vibration is not interrupted after a blow from the finger ; 



152 



THE DANCE 



consequently they will ring when touched. The suc- 
cessive taps of four skilful fingers on a castanet so hung 
will make it sing, as is appropriate to the flowing dance 
of the South. But change the tie from the thumb to 
the two middle fingers and you change the voice: the 
blow of a finger presses together the two halves of the 
instrument, and throws both against the palm of the 
hand; vibration is stopped, and the report is a dry "tak'' 
or "tok," which is consistent with and contributory to 
the crisp staccato sentiment of the Jota, with its kicking 
treatment of a running pas de hourree, swift pirouettes, 
and abrupt starts and stops. 

There is a certain paradoxical relationship between 
the motives of step and music, perhaps peculiar to Spain, 
that asserts itself most clearly in the Jota, That is, the 
setting of brilliant dance-movement to the accompani- 




Part of the "Jota" of Aragon. 

Showing rapid foot-work to slow music. Steps indicated by accents 

under music. The melody above quoted is that of the old Jota, 

ment of melodies of a sadness sometimes unearthly. 
The juxtaposition does not always occur. When it 
does, as in the old Jota of Aragon and las Soleares of 
Andalusia, it is the very incarnation of the mysterious 
magic of a magic land; it is the smile forcing back the 
tear, words of wit spoken by the voice of sorrow. Or is 
the foreigner mistaken? The peasant himself sees no 
sorrow in the tunes, any more than in life. 



SPANISH DANCING 153 

Thumping the foot-beats gives an idea of the rhythm 
so far as related to the sound; but this fails more than 
to hint at the effect of the music in combination with 
the dance, because the dance so fills the conscious 
attention that the music is less heard than felt. The 
melody itself is unnoticed; but its underlying melan- 
choly persistently cuts its way into the heart during the 
very moments that vision is most madly happy. 

True to her modest and serious character, the peasant 
woman of Aragon puts on her manton like a shawl, 
sternly concealing her figure. Her full, rustic skirt is 
of dull-coloured cotton. For her no high-heeled shoes ; 
her foot-wear — and her grandfather's — is the practical 
cord-soled sandal (alporgata) tied on with black cords, 
which, on their background of white stocking, have a 
coquettish look in spite of her. The man's dress is a 
representation of simple strength, saved from sombre- 
ness by well-disposed contrasting accents, few but bril- 
liant. The lacing of the breeches slashed at the knee 
echoes the tie of the sandals. The waistcoat and 
breeches are black ; the sash — worn very broad — may be 
either dull or bright; but the kerchief tied around the 
head is of colour as strong as dyes will produce. Red 
with a design of little black squares is characteristic 
ornament of the province. 

Valencia, too, has its Jota, but of movement more 
fluid than that of Aragon. La Jota Valenciana is 
superficially distinguished by its employment of the tam- 
bourine; the only dance in Spain — with possible unim- 
portant exceptions — to accompany itself with this 
instrument. In structure it is of the Seguidillas type, 
the coincidence of the term Jota being without signifi- 
cance. 



154 THE DANCE 

To go into a discussion of the dances of the northern 
provinces — Catalufia, the Basque provinces, GaHcia, 
Leon and others — would in most instances be to digress 
from the theme of Spanish dancing in any but a geo- 
graphical sense. The dances of the northern region 
that are Spanish in type are of the Seguidillas family 
already described, and without special pertinence to the 
locality. Conversely, the dances that are indigenous to 
and characteristic of the North are not of the type gen- 
erally and properly known as Spanish, but, in respect to 
everything but geography, pertain to the character 
dances of western Europe. True, the Fandango is seen 
in the Basque provinces; but it is a stray from other 
parts. Galicia has a pantomime of oafish courtship. A 
dance characteristic of Quipuzcoa was described to us 
by Tencita : glasses of wine were set on the floor, of the 
same number as the dancers, all of whom were men. 
At a given time every one would jump — from a consid- 
erable distance and to a good height — with the aim of 
missing his glass by a minimum margin. This exercise 
— or dance, by charity of definition — is performed after 
important matches of the provincial game of pelota. 
Being of the general style of racquets, control of place- 
ment of the feet follows. Many of the dances, says 
Tencita, are rounds. Of these the salient feature is the 
man's lift of his partner. Some of those iron-shoul- 
dered mountaineers, grasping the girl's waist in two 
big hands, lift her straight up to arm's-length. But 
this, to repeat, is Spanish only by grace of political 
boundary lines. The same feat is described in a French 
rustic dance of the Middle Ages. So long as the tradi- 
tion of round dancing joins the performers' hands to 
one another, choreographic art can hardly exist. 



SPANISH DANCING 155 

It is doubtful if the North has carried to the superla- 
tive any of the qualities of real dancing. In pure deco- 
rative beauty; variety and force of expression; scope 
of motive; happy contrasts of treatment — briefly, in the 
art of the dance, Andalusia speaks the final word. 
Who wishes natural pantomime need only call a Gipsy. 
Miniica more delicate is that of Toreo Espanol or el 
Vito, both narrating the placing of banderillas, defence 
with the cape, and the final despatch of a bull. In a 
combination of strong movement with speed and grace, 
there does not exist in this world a dance-form to excel 
the Iota of Aragon. 

The home of Spanish dancing is south of the latitude 
of Madrid, in the flowery region that the caliphs ruled. 
The pilgrim in search of dancing, therefore, shall not 
unsaddle until the nearest hilltop shows the ruins of a 
Moorish castle. By that token he will know that he has 
come to the land of grapes and fighting bulls, destitution 
and wit, black eyes, guitar and song, enchantment. 
There he may sell his horse; where falls the shadow of 
a castle of the Moors, on that soil blooms the dance. 



CHAPTER VII 

ITALIAN DANCES 

PAST are the splendid pageants of the Medici, nor 
do the floors of Castel San Angelo remember the 
caress of the winged feet of choral dancers. The 
classic ballet, heir of the dances and masques of courts, 
preserves their stately charm ; while their choreographic 
wit lives on in dances that are at once their ancestors 
and their survivors. An intermediate generation of 
dances represented the day of a society cultivated 
to artificiality. The dances of the people, on the con- 
trary, are rooted in the soil and cared for by wholesome 
tradition. Including, as they do, many of the steps 
from which the ballet was derived, there is material for 
interesting speculation in their continued vigour. 

In the Forlana of Venice, with its old-fashioned steps, 
is found a delicate mimetic synopsis of the world-old 
tale of the young wife, the elderly husband, and the 
dashing interloper; the theme immortalised by the pen 
of Boccaccio, in his collection of the stories that passed 
the time during the ten days when the court exiled itself 
in the hills to avoid a pestilence in Florence. The ac- 
companying illustrations of the dance have the benefit 
of the knowledge of two graduates of the academy of 
la Scala, both children of teachers in that institution: 
Madame Saracco-Brignole and Stephen Mascagni. 
Both are enthusiastic performers of their country's char- 
acter dances; Mascagni, indeed, with his wife as part- 

156 




"La Tarantella" 

Opening of the dance A poor collection 

They gamble for it: the game La Morra 
She wins He wins 



To face page 156 




"La Tarantella" 

An arabesque 

Finish of a phrase A typical moment 

Finish of a phrase 



To face page 157 



ITALIAN DANCES 157 

ner, makes the Tarantella an important feature of his 
repertoire. The trio in la Forlana was completed with 
the assistance of Mile. Louise La Gai, as Columbina, 
Madame Saracco-Brignole and Sr. Mascagni repre- 
senting Doctor Pantalone and Harlequin, respectively, 
completing the little cast. 

As a stock character in other pantomimes and farces. 
Doctor Pantalone's characteristics, both mental and 
physical, are so clearly defined that he has the reality 
of an acquaintance. In brief, he represents self-sure- 
ness and self-importance, with a weakness of revealing 
complete misinformation through indulgence in a habit 
of correcting the statements of others. Light-headed 
Columbina and mischief-making Harlequin are their 
familiar selves. The Forlana is a composition essen- 
tially of tableaux, with steps of the dance serving to 
lead from one picture to another. 

Harlequin's freedom with Columbina is resented by 
the elderly husband, who threatens the intruder with a 
cane. The frivolous young people dance away, after 
a mock-heroic pretence by Harlequin of protecting his 
inamorata from her husband. They begin a series of 
groups made to tantalise the dotard, whose possession 
of the young woman has clearly ceased to exist. Har- 
lequin embraces her, gazes into her eyes, raises her to 
his shoulder, kisses her, and is otherwise familiar, while 
Pantalone storms and pleads. Perching aloft with her 
partner's support in the various ways known to dancers 
of an acrobatic genius, Columbina reaches out to her 
spouse the tip of a finger, in smiling sarcasm. Panta- 
lone later is reduced to kissing the little foot that from 
time to time kicks upward as the lovers play. When at 
length even that is the occasion of a dignified protest 



158 THE DANCE 

from Harlequin, the defeated one withdraws from an 
unequal competition and gives the couple his blessing. 

Pantalone, apart from his relation to the Forlana, is 
one of a group of characters attached to the various 
Italian states as allegorical representatives. To Sar- 
dinia, for instance, pertains a soldierly looking youth 
called Maschara Sarda. Bologna has its Doctor Balan- 
zone; Florence, Stenterello; Rome, Rugantino; Naples, 
Pulcinella — and this is to enumerate only a few out of 
a number slightly in excess of the number of states. 
These mythical beings are neither heroes nor carica- 
tures, nor are they supposed at all to portray the quali- 
ties typical of the population they represent. Their 
associations seem to be without underlying significance, 
but they are none the less indissoluble in the mind of 
the Italian. Those who have most cause to love them 
are the writers of popular comedies; the simple device 
of putting a Balanzone or a Rugantino among the char- 
acters of the play makes possible a direct expression of 
ideas purporting to be those of the state itself. Such 
lines, regardless of the literary tone of the play, are 
customarily delivered in the local dialect of the region 
represented. 

It is the Tarantella that the world at large accepts 
as Italy's national dance; and rightly enough, since 
there is none whose popularity is more nearly general 
through the land. It is rather identified with Naples. 
There it is said to be the amusement that the younger 
working people think of first, when leisure allows the 
thought of any amusement at all ; but it is very popular, 
too, through the South. 

It is a breezy, animated dance, varied with panto- 
mime not very profound, to be sure, but at least merry 




"La Tarantella" 

Opening of the dance A turn back-to-back 

A pause after rapid foot-work 

Characteristic finishes of phrases 



To face page 158 




o 






fQ 



W 5 



ITALIAN DANCES 159 

with character. The mimetic action concerns the vary- 
ing luck of la morra, that game that consists in guess- 
ing at the number of fingers open on the opponent's 
suddenly revealed hand; perhaps the only gambling 
game for which every one is born with full equipment 
of implements. To a votary, every glance at his own 
five fingers must seem a temptation to seek a game. 
For whatever reason, it seems to be a necessary element 
in the life of the Italian labourer. The moment of the 
Tarantella given over to la morra is, as it were, an 
acknowledgment of its place among the people's recre- 
ations. 

As castanets are to the dances of Spain, the tam- 
bourine is to those of Italy. Like castanets, the tam- 
bourine produces an amazing variety of tones when 
handled by an expert. The efif ect its jovial emphasis of 
tempo has on the enthusiasm of dancer and spectator 
need not be dwelt upon ; again sobriety succumbs before 
rhythm's twofold attack on eye and ear together. Vi- 
vacity is insistent, too, in the colours of the Neapolitan 
costume. The tambourine is dressed in ribbons, char- 
acteristically the national red, white, and stinging green. 
Stripes as brilliant as caprice may suggest adorn the 
girl's head-dress, apron and skirt. Nor must her more 
substantial finery be forgotten; until a responsible age 
is attained by children of her own, she is guardian of an 
accumulating collection of necklaces and earrings, 
bracelets and rings that are as a family symbol of re- 
spectability. Just as in other nations the inherited table 
silver is brought out to grace occasions of rejoicing, 
the Neapolitan young woman on like occasion exhibits 
gold, silver and gay red coral in adornment of her per- 
son — adding much to the sparkle of the Tarantella, 



i6o THE DANCE 

The boy (in these and the pictures of la Ciociara 
represented by Mile. La Gai) has a necktie as red as 
dyes will yield, and a long fisherman's cap of the same 
colour. It is Italian stage tradition, by the way, that 
the Neapolitan fisher boy's trouser-legs should be rolled 
up to slightly different heights. 

The dance itself is full of pretty groups, well spiced 
with moods. The steps are happily varied and well 
composed. There are many turns, the boy frequently 
assisting with the familiar spiral twist of the girl's up- 
raised hands — a device that, with any execution back of 
it, always produces a pleasant effect. The turns also 
are highly enhanced in value when, as they frequently 
do, they terminate so as to bring the dancers into an 
effective embrace. Preparation for a pirouette by both 
dancers is utilised, at one point, as a pretext for some 
delightfully grotesque poses. 

It is a dance worthy of study and performance by art- 
ists, and of the enthusiasm of appreciators of good work. 
In Corinne occurs a passage reflecting its impression on 
Madame de Stael. The following selections seem most 
suggestive of the effect produced: ". . . beating the 
air with her tambourine — in all her movements showing 
a grace, a lissomeness, a blending of modesty and aban- 
don, which gave the spectator some idea of the power 
exercised over the imagination by the Indian dancing- 
girls, when they are, so to speak, poets in the dance, ex- 
pressing varied feelings by characteristic steps and pic- 
turesque attitudes. Corinne was so well acquainted 
with the different attitudes which painters and sculptors 
have depicted, that by a slight movement of her arms, 
holding the tambourine sometimes above her head, some- 
times in front of her, while the other hand ran over the 




La Ciociar 



Opening promenade (i, 2) — End of promenade (3) — He has "made eyes" at a 
spectator (4) — Opening of dance (second movement) (5) 



To face page i6o 




"La Ciociara" 
Rustic affection Again caught in perfidy 

Tries to make amends 
Without success Removed from temptation 



To face page i6l 



ITALIAN DANCES 161 

bells with incredible swiftness, she would recall the dan- 
cing girls of Herculaneum, and present before the eye of 
the painter or artist one idea after another in swift suc- 
cession. It was not French dancing, so remarkable for 
the elegance and difficulty of its steps; it was a talent 
much more closely related to imagination and feeling. 
The mood was expressed alternately by exactness or 
softness of movement. Corinne, dancing, made the on- 
lookers share her feelings, just as if she were improvis- 
ing, playing the lyre, or designing figures ; every motion 
was to her as expressive as spoken language.'' 

The similarity between the words Tarantella, and 
'"tarantula," a large and poisonous spider, causes endless 
speculation to the end of establishing a more than etymo- 
logical relation between the two. One author seriously 
affirms that the dance is a standard rural remedy for the 
bite of the insect, the energetic movement starting a 
perspiration that relieves the system of poison. Various 
German physicians have written reports on the subject, 
generally ending with a statement that the said antidote 
for poison is of doubtful efficacy ! Approaching the sub- 
ject from another angle, the word tarantismos is discov- 
ered: a species of hysteria common in Calabria and 
Apulia, and (by etymology) attributed to the bites of 
tarantulas to be found in those parts. But along comes 
another learned person who finds that tarantismos is not 
due to tarantula bites, but to certain molluscs that Cal- 
abrians and Apulians customarily include in their food 
regime ! He harks back to a certain dancing mania that 
was more or less epidemic in Europe during a period of 
the Middle Ages, a hysterical condition found curable by 
violent dancing. Whence he induces that the Tarantella 
derives its name from tarantismos, and that it originated 



i62 THE DANCE 

as a cure for neurasthenia. Still another finds that the 
ailment causes hysterical movements, "similar to dan- 
cing!'' and flatters the Tarantella with this spasmodic 
origin. Again, a grave experimenter finds that taran- 
tulas, placed on floats in water so that they will be dis- 
inclined to run away, will move their feet in time to 
music. He does not ask us to infer from this that the 
steps of the dance were so originated and composed, but 
in the cause of general joyousness he might have, and 
that without much damage to the accumulated erudition 
on the subject. 

All the Latin countries, no less than Scotland and Ire- 
land, have their Jig. In Italy, as elsewhere, it is a com- 
position of rapid clog and shuffle steps. More than most 
Occidental countries Italy has a lingering fondness for 
pantomime; doubtless as a heritage from the theatre of 
Rome, and increased through centuries of political in- 
trigue that sometimes made the spoken word inadvisable. 
Like the Forlana, la Ciociara of Romagna is an example 
of choreographic pantomime carried to a high pitch of 
narrative quality. It represents a heavy-footed shep- 
herd and his wife, and their unpaid efforts to collect 
coins for music and dancing during their visit to the 
village. 

After a little promenade to the music of the pipe, or 
piffara, that has descended unchanged from the days of 
the shepherds on the slope of Mount Ida, and the tam- 
bourine of equally venerable age, the tambourine is 
passed before an imaginary circle of auditors. The im- 
aginary coins failing to come forth, the couple impul- 
sively decide to dance anyway, for their own amuse- 
ment. The dance proper is of the flowing style of the 
Tarantella, but includes only the simpler steps. An 



ITALIAN DANCES 163 

important contribution to the amusing character of the 
performance is a bit of by-play that begins after the 
work has apparently terminated: the shepherd, oaf 
though he is, expresses an interest in a pretty face in 
the audience, and even a belief that his interest is re- 
ciprocated. He is roundly scolded by his wife, soothes 
her feelings, and at last retires under a not misplaced 
surveillance. 

The Saltarello, an old and lively step-dance identified 
with Rome, and including several steps of the Tarantella, 
completes the list of popular dances for which Italy is 
famous. Other names there are in abundance, but of 
dances identified with their localities. La Siciliana is a 
delicate but insufficiently varied product of the island 
from which it has its name. Messina has a pantomimic 
dance known as la Ruggera; Florence its Trescona, and 
so on indefinitely. Of these, such as have any choreo- 
graphic interest are said to owe it to the Tarantella. Of 
many the interest is chiefly historical, since they are 
woven into one tissue with old songs and old legends. 
Poetic and altogether fascinating as such compositions 
frequently are, however, their prevailing lack of the 
essential qualities of dancing makes discussion of them 
inappropriate to a book on that subject. On the other 
hand, the highly characteristic flavour of the music and 
the words of their accompanying songs makes them a 
fascinating study under the heads of folk-lore and folk- 
music, in which connection they are the subject of sev- 
eral writings of great interest. 



CHAPTER VIII 

EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING IN GENERAL 

TO people who toil long hours at confining work 
that requires care .and skill, there comes at the 
end of the day a craving for exercise that will 
release the mind from the constraint of attention, that 
will let the muscles play with vigour and abandon. In 
response to this demand of nature there exists one class 
of folk-dancing — the genre of the careless, energetic 
romp of people bedecked in bright colours, joining hands 
now to form themselves in rings, or again in interweav- 
ing lines, improvising figures, heedless of step except the 
simplest skipping and balancing. 

Acting contrariwise to the influence of daily labour in- 
volving skill and attention, is the force of habitual work 
that does not require enough precision to satisfy the 
healthy craving for fine cO-ordination of muscle, nerve 
and mind. The latter condition, too, moves to the dance. 
But here, in the case of a people whose potency of skill 
is not spent in the day's work, the dance is likely to 
assume forms of such precision and elaboration that its 
performance requires considerable training, and such 
beauty that it attains to the plane of art. 

These two divisions are far from exact; many influ- 
ences modify them. But they serve as a beginning of 
the process of separating the gems of folk-dancing from 
the mass of that which bears a superficial sparkle but is 

without intrinsic choreographic value. 

164 




Scotch "Sword Dance" 
Miss Margaret Crawford and partner 

The steps and jumps bring the feet as close to the sword as is possible without 

touching it 



To face page 164 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 165 

The second supposition, of a people engaged at work 
not sufficiently exacting in finesse to satisfy their craving 
for skilled co-ordination, may be taken to indicate a 
merely healthy race whose daily tasks require no finer 
technique than the ordinary labour of a farm; in such 
category might be put the peasants of Aragon. The 
same relation would exist between a people less virile and 
a form of daily labour still less concerned with skill, as 
the Andalusians. Or again, it is valid in the case of a 
community engaged in crafts requiring fine workman- 
ship, if that community be of people endowed with nerv- 
ous energy in excess of the requirements of the day's 
work; and that is the condition in those eternally youth- 
ful nations, Scotland and Ireland. 

National sense of beautv is a factor in the determina- 
tion of the dances of a country. The Latins have it. 
The Italians and Spanish have the leisure to practice its 
expression. The French, on the contrary, direct their 
energies into work of pecuniary value, and their accept- 
ance of the doctrine of accumulation keeps their atten- 
tion where it will be paid. Pierre and Laurette frolic 
with the neighbours on the green, in the moonlight, in 
what they call a dance. It gives them exercise and 
many a laugh. But when they would see beauty, they 
patronise its specialised exponent, the ballet. 

'Tolk-dancing" is practically synonymous with ''char- ' 
acter dancing," or, as the word is frequently formed in 
literal translation of its French original, ''characteristic 
dancing.'' It means what it impHes, an exposition of 
the characteristics of the people to whom it pertains. 
Energy or dreaminess, fire or coolness, and a multitude 
of other qualities are bound to assert themselves, auto- 
matically; to any one who can even half read their 



i66 THE DANCE 

language, character dances are an open book of intimate 
personal revelation. The portrayal of sports or trades, 
which is the sort of thing with which many folk-dances 
are concerned, does not detract from their interest as 
expositors of national temperament. Though it may 
be noted that, in general, the more a dance occupies itself 
with imitation, the less its value as a dance. 

Not least of the elements of interest attaching to these 
dances is the measure they apply to national vitality or 
the lack of it. Through the form and execution of 
its dance, the nation as yet half-barbarous reveals vital 
potentiality; the people that has luxuriated in centuries 
of power displays its lassitude of nerve; and the young 
political organism shows marks of senility at birth. 
The aboriginal savage, huge-limbed, bounds through 
dances fitted to the limitations of muscles that cannot be 
controlled by brain, and the limitations of brain that can- 
not invent or sustain attention; his dance exposes him 
as of a race not in its youthful vigour, but in the degen- 

, eracy wrought less by time than by manner of living. 

i The Indian of North America is dying of age ; the Rus- 

7 sian is in his youth. 

The list of forces that make and preserve a nation's 
dances is incomplete without the addition of the some- 
times powerful element of national pride. This un- 
doubtedly enters into the high cultivation of the dances 
of Scotland. The industry, thrift and all-round prac- 
tical nature of the Scotch need not be enlarged upon. 
Though they do not lack appreciation of beauty, they 
consider it a luxury for only limited indulgence, except 
as it is provided by nature. But the Sword Dance and 
the Fling of their warring ancestors are as though asso- 
ciated with the holy cause of freedom. On many a 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 167 

Highland battlefield they have been stepped; they have 
wet their scurrying feet in spilled blood. 

To learn Scotch dancing takes time, precious time. 
But it is time spent on a decent and a fitting thing ; they 
are Scotch ! Scotch as the thistle itself ! From pulpits 
have come, at times, objections to them; from armed 
camps and lairds' halls of other days has come the 
answer, far but clear : that Scottish chiefs, godly men as 
well as brave, trod their Flings in celebration of victories 
dear to memory. It is enough. The cult of the dance 
has continued, unchecked by the inability of occasional 
well-meaning divines to see its significance. 

Caesar ''commented" upon the fighting qualities of the 
Picti, built a wall to keep them off from the Anglia that 
he had conquered, and decided not to push his conquests 
farther north. The fighting spirit of those tartaned 
clansmen never has softened and has had much occupa- 
tion throughout the subsequent centuries ; and attaching 
to it is an epic, a saga, in the shape of the Sword Dance. 

Around the Sword Dance in particular the Scotch 
people group associations. In earlier times its perform- 
ance was customary on the eve of battle to relieve ten- 
sion, to exhibit self-control, and, perhaps most impor- 
tant of all, to test fortune. To touch with the foot the 
crossed sword or scabbard between and about which the 
dancing warrior picked his steps was an omen of ill for 
the individual or his comrades. In present-day com.peti- 
tions, the ill luck following this error is evident ; to touch 
the sword or scabbard with the foot eliminates the offen- 
der from the contest. 

The Highland Fling, in distinction from the above, 
symbolises victory or rejoicing. With the other dances 
of Scotland, it has been highly formalised. Moreover, 



i68 THE DANCE 

its routine, steps, and the proper execution of each are 
so clearly defined and generally understood that any 
change in them is immediately resented by any Scotch 
audience. 

Every one has seen Scotch dances; any detailed an- 
alysis of them would be superfluous. Exhilarating as 
Highland whiskey, sharp as the thistle, they are carried 
to a high plane of art. Through them all runs a homo- 
geneous angularity of movement that literally translates 
the sentiment of "Caledonia, stern and wild." To the 
dances of Italy and Andalusia they are as wind-blown 
mountain pines in contrast to orange trees fanned by 
Mediterranean zephyrs. The theme of the sharp angle 
is kept absolutely intact, unmodified by any element of 
sweep or curve that the eye can detect. The essential 
steps are two, with variations: the kicking step of the 
Schottische Militaire, of frequent mention on ballroom 
programmes of twenty-five years ago; and hattements, 
great and small. It will be seen that these are perfectly 
of a kind. The surprising thing is the variety derived 
from combinations of these two elements with simple 
turns, simple jumps, and little if anything else of foot- 
work. The result serves, from a purely analytical point 
of view, as an admirable demonstration of the value of 
a simple theme intelligently insisted on. 

Spirit, of course, is another factor of great importance 
in making Scotch dances what they are. A Scotch 
dancer without spirit could not be imagined. Spanish 
dancers sometimes work coldly, ballet dancers often; 
but a Scotch dancer never. The first note of the bag- 
pipes inflames him. 

With the rigourous definition of step, technique and 
style that attaches to these dances, and the thoroughness 




Hoisting sail 
Type of step 



The "Sailor's Hornpipe" 
Look-out 

Rowing 

Hoisting sail 



Hauling in rope 
Type of step 



To face page 169 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 169 

of popular understanding of all that pertains to them, 
the Scotch public is qualified to exercise upon dancing 
the essential functions of a national academy. Stand- 
ards are maintained by knowledge on the part of spec- 
tators. Indifference of performance or freedom with 
forms is quickly reproved. Nor, on the other hand, 
need any performer remain in ignorance as to just what 
details of his execution are lacking; among his friends 
there are plenty of capable critics. We noted the same 
conditions in Aragon, where the general love of the Jota 
probably would have kept its standards of execution, 
even without the aid of professional teachers — and cer- 
tainly do protect it against the subtracting process 
effected by adding novelties. In Italy the Tarantella is 
cultivated in the same way, in Little Russia the Cossack 
Dance, and in Hungary the Czardas. And it is the 
force of educated public interest behind them that sus- 
tains them in a class approached, in requirements of 
skill, by few other character dances. 

The accompanying illustrations from work by Miss 
Margaret Crawford and partner demonstrate the inter- 
esting fact that the Scotch, developing their school of 
execution along the lines dictated by their own keen dis- 
cernment, arrive at a conclusion in important respects 
identical with the creed of the classic ballet. It is possi- / 
ble that the dances of mountain and heather were influ-' ; 
enced by the Pavane and the Minuet in their day — for 
Queen Mary had her masques and balls and pageants, 
like other monarchs of her time. But even that will not 
account for the clean, sharp brilliancy of a Highlander's 
battement or ballone. In so many essentials his dances 
are at variance with those of the seventeenth-century 
courts that their excellence must be attributed to a na- 



170 THE DANCE 

tional instinct for true quality of beauty. The splen- 
didly erect carriage of the body, the straight knee of 
the supporting leg during a step, as well as the crisp, 
straight-knee execution of a grand battement (the 
Scotch and other dancers do not use the French desig- 
nation of steps, but the general observer may well do 
so for the sake of clearness), might have come direct 
from the French Academy. This identity is in manner, 
it will be understood, more than in matter. Like all 
character dancing, the Scotch includes in its vocabulary 
positions and steps that the ballet ignores. Placing the 
hands on the hips ; the heel on the ground and the toe up ; 
and a ''rocking'' step, consisting of rolling from side to 
side on the sides of the feet — these and other devices are 
of the dances of outdoors. In the case of the Scotch 
they are so admirably incorporated into the scheme of 
sharp line and movement that go to make a staccato unit 
that — through the sheer magic worked by cohesion of 
theme — they avoid the plebeian appearance into which 
such movements fall when not artfully combined. 

The Scotch Reel has a good deal in common with the 
Fling, and is of the same general character. It is cus- 
tomarily performed by two couples. Its distinguishing 
feature is a figure eight, traced by a little promenade, 
each of the performers winding in and out among the 
other three. Even this promenade is performed in a 
sharp skipping step, that the dance may lose none of its 
national flavour. A variation of this dance is the Reel 
of Tulloch, popular in all parts of Scotland, and dis- 
tinguished principally by its history. Legend places its 
origin in a country church, in winter ; while the congre- 
gation waited for the belated minister, they danced to 
keep warm, and in the course of the dancing evolved a 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 171 

choreographic composition that made their village fa- 
mous. The Strathspey alluded to in literature appears 
also to have been a variety of the Reel. 

The Shean Treuse, a rollicking dance that covers a 
good deal of ground, is — according to legend — the repre- 
sentation of a small boy's delight with his first pair of 
trousers. Naturally, it is based on a series of prancing 
steps, in each of which the leg is brought to horizontal 
to keep the trousers in evidence. 

This concludes the list of the well-known dances of 
Scotland. Of the number the most representative, or 
one may say classic, are the Sword Dance and the Fling. 

England has to her credit one dance, notwithstanding 
all that has been said and written to the disparagement 
of her originality in the arts ; and, with execution to help 
it, a very respectable dance it is, as well as a monument 
to a social element that has contributed powerfully to 
England's rank among the nations. The dance is the 
Sailor's Hornpipe. 

It is a dance of character in the truest sense, being 
based on the movements associated with the sailor's 
duties. Accompanying himself with a tuneful patter of 
foot-work, the performer pantomimes hauling at ropes, 
rowing, standing watch, and sundry other duties of the 
sea-dog who dealt with sails and not with coal. The 
hands are placed on the hips palm out, to avoid touching 
the clothing with the tar that — as everybody knows — 
always covered the palms of the deep-sea sailor. While 
not in any sense a great dance, it is uncommonly in- 
genious and amusing in its combination of patter of 
steps 'and earnest pantomime. It is literally a sailor's 
chantey sung in the terms of movement instead of 
words of mouth; even to its division into short stanzas 



172 THE DANCE 

(one for each of the duties represented) the parallel is 
exact. Its place in the dancing art might be defined as 
the same as the position of the sailor's chantey in music. 

In England there has been a recent and earnest re- 
vival of the Morris Dances, accompanied by a good deal 
of writing on the subject. In England they have the 
importance of being EngHsh. They are "quaint/' it is 
true. They reflect the romping, care-free spirit of 
Merry England ; they bring to the cheek of buxom lass 
the blush of health ; they are several centuries old ; theyi 
follow the antique usage of performance to accompani4 
ment sung by the dancers. But their composition — andi| 
its absence — commends them to the attention of the anti- 
quarian and the sociologist, rather than that of a seeker i 
after evolved dancing. 

The word "Morris," according to the suggestion of-r 
fered by certain scholars, is a corruption of "Moorish"; 
which theory of its derivation is not confirmed by step, 
movement or sentiment to be found in the dance. What 
does seem reasonably possible is that it is of Gipsy 
derivation. Gipsies are sometimes known — in Scotland 
at least — as "Egyptians" ; so why not, by a similar abey4 
ance of accuracy in England, as Moors? — a process ofl 
near-reasoning the value of whose conclusion is nothing*, 
at all. At any rate, the Morris dancers have a tradition 
of hanging little bells around their arms and legs, and 
decorating themselves with haphazard streamers of rib- 
bon, which is Gipsy-esque. Stories are recorded to the 
effect that there have been performers who tuned their 
bells, and by the movements of the dance played tunes on 
them. The stories offer no definite information as to the 
quality of dance or music. 

The Morris seems to have been a dance for men only; 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 173 

in which respect it was unique among the old Enghsh 
forms unearthed in the recent revival of interest. Many 
of these dances certainly are interesting, if not in actual 
choreographic merit, in association. Their very names 
are rich in flavour, such as All in a Garden Green, The 
Old Maid in Tears, Hempstead Heath, Greensleeves 
(mentioned in The Merry Wives of Windsor), Wasp's 
Maggott, Dull Sir John, and others equally suggestive of 
rustic naturalness and fun. Their revivals by Miss 
Coles and Miss Chaplin include full directions for per- 
formance, which is simple. Several of them preserve 
the ancient usage of saluting the partner with a kiss — 
which is not mentioned as a warning, but as an observa- 
tion merely. 

England has been among the nations to preserve the 
institution of dancing around a pole — among the Eng- 
lish-speaking so commonly known as the "Maypole'' that 
its use in the celebration of anything but the coming of 
spring seems incongruous. Other peoples, neverthe- 
less, incorporate it into religious celebrations and what- 
not. The device of suspending ribbons from the top of 
the pole, and weaving them around it by means of an in- 
terlacing figure described by the dancers, seems to be 
universal. The steps employed are the simplest possible 
— those of the Walts, Polka, or Schottische, varied per- 
haps with an occasional turn. It is another instance of 
a semiformalised romp called by the title of dance. In 
passing it may be noted that the Maypole has become a 
part of the Mayday celebration of the New York public 
school children — and those of other cities, for anything 
we know to the contrary. Some hundreds of poles dis- 
tributed over a green, each with its brightly coloured 
group twinkling around it, tickles the eye with a feast 



174 THE DANCE 

of sparkle, at least. The same outing is the occasion 
of an exhibition of the character dancing that the chil- 
dren have learned as part of their school work during 
the preceding year. The exhibited skill is higher than 
one would expect, and remarkable, considering the dif- 
ficulties in the way of imparting it. In one direction the 
celebration probably attains to the superlative: its par- 
ticipants numbering as they do well up in the thousands, 
and occupying about a quarter-section of ground, there 
is nothing in history to indicate that it does not consti- 
tute, in point of sheer size and numbers, the biggest 
ballet the world has ever seen. 

Ireland has a group of dances exclusively her own, 
unique in structure, and developed to the utmost limit of 
their line of excellence. Their distinguishing property 
is complicated rhythmic music of the feet. The Jig, the 
Reel and the Hornpipe of Ireland are at once the most 
difficult and the most highly elaborated dances of the clog 
and shuffle type that can be found. In them are pas- 
sages in which the feet tap the floor seventy-five times in 
a quarter of a minute. 

They have, too, the art that interprets the character 
\ of their people. But it is not the Irishman of the comic 
^" supplement that they reveal. Rather, by means of their 
own vocabulary of suggestion, the eloquence of which 
begins where words fail, they present the acute Hiber- 
nian wit that animates the brain of Irishmen like Shaw. 
Intricate combinations of keen, exact steps, the Irish 
dances are a series of subtle epigrams directed to the eye. 
And like the epigrams that proceed from true wit, they 
are expressed so modestly that their significance may be 
quite lost on an intelligence not in sympathy with the 
manner of thought that lies back of them. To the end 




Irish Dances 
Mr. Thomas Hill and Mr. Patrick Walsh 

The Jig (i, 3, 4) —The Hornpipe (2, 5) — The Reel (6, 7, 



To face page 174 




A "Four-hand Reel" 

Preparation for woman's turn under arms (i) — Characteristic style (2) 
— A turning group figure (3) 



To face page 175 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 175 

of convincing us onlookers that this everyday world is 
made up of nothing but happiness, the music of tapping 
shoe flatters our senses without shame, chloroforms rea- 
son and shows us the truth — that our minds at least will 
float in the air like dancers' bodies, if we but abandon 
them to the rhythmic charm that coaxes them to forget 
their sluggishness. Irish dancing has too often been 
the victim of caricature. In all truth, its refined in- 
tricacy makes it cousin rather to the Book of Kells, 
whose ancient decoration of rich yet simple interlace- 
ment gives it place among the masterpieces of the book- 
designer's art. ....... 

The intent of the art of Irish dancing is the sooner 
understood by a word of negative description to begin \ 
with: namely, it is at the opposite pole from dancing of ' 
posture, broad movement, or pantomime. All its re- 
sources, on the contrary, are concentrated in making 
music of the feet. Happy music it is, with lightness of 
execution as a part of it. That no incident may distract 
attention "from foot-work, the body is held almost un- 
deviatingly erect, and the arms passive at the sides ; and 
this is in accordance with unquestioned usage. 

Among the dancers represented in the accompanying 
photographs is Mr. Thomas Hill, four times winner of 
the championship of Ireland. "The thing of greatest\ 
importance in Irish dancing,'' Mr. Hill says, "is thej 
music of the shoes. In the eleven years that I have been 
dancing, the greater part of my attention has been spent 
on the development and control of the variety of tones 
that can be produced by taps of heels and soles on the 
floor and against each other. Style is necessary, of 
course, as in any other dancing, and so is exactness in 
^tricky' time. But control of a good variety of sounds. 



176 THE DANCE 

which is the most difficult part of Irish dancing, is the 
most important because it is the most Irish.'' 

Once in a great while coincidence puts one in the way 
of hearing the work of a virtuoso on the snare-drum. 
Within a minute the effect is found to be nothing less 
than hypnotic. Every one within hearing is patting 
time, swaying with the time, restraining the most urgent 
impulse to do something that will bring every fibre of his 
body into unison with that inebriating rhythm. Now, the 
feet of a fine Irish dancer are drumsticks as amenable to 
control as the drummer's ; notes long and short, dull and 
sharp — he has all the drum's variety. No resource of 
syncopation, emphasis, or change is unknown to the Irish 
dances ; the rhythm gets into the blood^with double the 
seductiveness of sound alone, since every tap on the tym- 
panum is reinforced by the same metric beating on the 
vision. Joined to the resulting exhilaration is the pecu- 
liar excitement always felt in the presence of suspended 
gravitation; for no less than suspended gravitation it is 
when the foot of a man taps the ground like the paw of 
a kitten, and the body floats in the air like a bird that 
has paused but will not alight. The good Saint Basil 
was not only eloquent when he asked what could be more 
blessed than to imitate on earth the dancing of the 
angels. His question carries with it the important indi- 
cation that he had seen an Irish Reel in his day. Be- 
cause, among all the dances that are stepped on this mor- 
tal earth, what other is so light that the saint could see 
in it the pastime of angels? 

For the sake of accuracy, let it not be thought that 
the steps of the Reel and the Jig, and the Hornpipe as 
well, were not old while Christianity was new. Mr. 
Patrick J. Long, himself at once a dancer of pronounced 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 177 

ability and a well-read scholar on Irish history, writes 
for this chapter: "In the days of Druidism, the Irish 
nation celebrated an annual feast lasting six days ; three 
days before the first of November, and three days after. 
Coming after the season of harvest, it probably was like 
a Thanksgiving. The celebration was called in Gaelic a 
Feis (pronounced 'fesh'). Now it was the custom, at 
the time of the Feis for the nobles of Ireland, and their 
ladies, and bards and harpists from far and near, to 
gather at the castle of the king; and there for six days 
there were competitions in all kinds of music and dan- 
cing. "^~^' 

"The dance that was popular with the nobles and their\ 
ladies was called the Rinnce Fadha (pronounced 'reenka* 
faudha'). This we know was a dance for several cou- 
ples. It was a favourite of King Leoghaire (pro- 
nounced Teery'), who ruled Ireland when St. Patrick 
came to convert the people from paganism. From it was 
derived in a later century the form of the Sir Roger de 
Coverley; from the Sir Roger came the Virginia Reel of 
America. r^ 

"The dances of Ireland are variations on the Reel, Jig ' 
and Hornpipe. The Reel is probably the most classic; 
it is executed in a gliding movement, and is speedy and 
noiseless. The Jig and the Hornpipe have a good deal 
in common. Both use clogging and shuffling; that is, 
taps of heel or sole on the floor, and light scrapes of the 
sole. Of the two the Hornpipe contains the more clog- 
ging. But it is richer than the Clog Dance that it re- / 
sembles more or less. It is less mechanical, more varied 
and has prettier foot-work. 

"The Reel and the Jig are danced as solos by man or 
woman, by two men, two women, a couple, two men and 



178 THE DANCE 

a woman, two, three, four or eight couples. In 'set 
dances,' as they are called when performed by a 'set' of 
couples, the steps are simpler than in solo work ; and the 
time also is simpler in the music of set dances than in the 
airs used to accompany solos and the work of teams of 
two. There are Hop Jigs, Slip Jigs, Single and Triple 
Jigs in 9-8 time. Another peculiarity of Irish dancing, 
due to the character of the music, is in the irregularities 
of repetition of the work of one leg with the other leg. 
The right leg may do the principal work through eight 
bars ; the same work is naturally to be repeated then with 
the left leg; but often the composition of the music gives 
the left leg only six bars. This is good because un- 
expected, but it adds a great deal to the difficulty of 
learning Irish dancing." 

The above-named dances represent the utmost de- 
velopment of clogging, which is tapping of heels, and 
shuffling, or scraping of the sole on the floor. Foot- 
work, especially that of short and rapid steps, is the ele- 
ment impossible to show in pictorial form. Accompany- 
ing photographs, therefore, give little idea of the charm 
of the art of Mr. Hill, Mr. Long, Mr. Walsh, Miss 
Murray and Miss Reardon, from whom they were 
taken. 

Thanks to the American branch of the Gaelic League 
and its activity in the cause of Ireland's arts, Irish 
dancing is in a flourishing condition in this country. In 
intelligent public interest, standards of excellence and 
number of capable performers, America now leads even 
Ireland. Mr. Hill attributes this to a combination of 
well-directed enthusiasm, and the practice of holding 
four important competitions each year. These are di- 
vided among as many cities. Capable management at- 






The "Irish Jig" 

Miss Murray, Miss Reardon, Mr. Hill, Mr. Walsh — Single figure, 
Mr. Patrick J. Long 



To face page 178 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 179 

tracts competitors of good class and large numbers, and 
they are classified in such a way that there is hope for all. 
Liberality in prizes is an added stimulus. All told, Mr. 
Hill says that one feis of the four annually held in this 
country accomplishes as much in the interest of dancing 
as is done in Ireland in a year. 

Dublin and Cork each has its annual feis, with an in- 
terval of half-a-year between the two. Each has the 
dancing championship competition among its features; 
Mr. Hill's title was won in 1909, '10 and '11 at Cork, also 
in 191 1 at Dublin. As the Gaelic League has promi- 
nent among its purposes the restoration to popular use 
of the Gaelic language, dancing is only one of several ar- 
tistic contests. Singing, elocution, and conversation, all 
in the ancient Irish tongue, have their respective laurel- 
seeking votaries. Superiority in the playing of violin 
and flute is rewarded, as in playing the war pipes and 
union pipes. (War pipes, as may not be universally 
known, are the Scotch form of bagpipes, played by lung 
power; the wind for union pipes, in distinction, is sup- 
plied by bellows held under the arm. ) And until within 
a couple of years lilting has been competed in — the old 
singing without words, ''tra-la-la-dee'' sort of thing. 
The irreverent called it "pussy-singing." Athletic 
gamics are included for the sake of variety. Prizes in all 
events are usually medals. • 

The feis in America follows the same model. Dan- 
cing enjoys a gratifying popularity. Good work always 
incites the spectators to shout their enthusiasm. With 
a prevailing eagerness to learn to judge it more exactly, 
and a highly respectable knowledge of it at the present 
moment, there exists also that most wholesome adjunct 
to interest, a division of beliefs as to school. The Cork 



i8o THE DANCE 

technique is comparatively short in step, and very pre- 
cise ; Limerick favours a rather looser type of movement. 
And there comes in the world-old argument between the 
Academic and (by whatever name it matters not) the 
Impressionistic creeds. Each claims to represent the 
true Hibernianism. 

Sweden, during a period beginning a few years ago, 
has taken up an enthusiastic revival of the dances of the 
Scandinavian world. The movement began with the 
foundation by the late Dr. Hazelius of the Museum of 
the North, and is carried on by his son. 

The Museum was planned to bring together a repre- 
sentation of Scandinavia of old, in such a complete way 
as to show not only products and methods of manufac- 
ture, but modes of life and social customs. The result 
is unique among undertakings of the kind. In a park 
called the Skansen are preserved the Scandinavian flora 
and fauna, in appropriate surroundings. Farms are 
cultivated in the manner of the various provinces, and on 
the farms are their appropriate buildings, characteristic 
in every detail. To complete the re-creation of antiquity, 
churches and all the other structures pertinent to com- 
munity life are included. 

The numerous people required to animate such an es- 
tablishment, including as it does accommodations for vis- 
itors, are the expositors of the national dances. Farm- 
ers, shoemakers, waiters in the cafes, are required to 
learn and practise them, and present them publicly three 
times a week. It goes without saying that they dress at 
all times in the costume of the locality of which they are 
representatives. 

The influences of the Skansen have been of a sort to 
gratify its founder. Society now, as a custom, dresses 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 181 

itself for garden parties in the picturesque gaiety and 
brilliant colour of old Scandinavia, and dances the Skra- 
lat and Kadriljs of the peasants. A saying has sprung 
up that ''dancing is a form of patriotism." The senti- 
ment has impressed itself no less upon the working peo- 
ple than upon the rich. Children receive dancing in- 
struction gratis in the Skansen, and knowledge has 
spread into all parts of Sweden. Now, instead of the 
Polka, which fifty years ago swept over Scandinavia and 
fastened itself on the land with a hold that smothered 
every other dance, are to be seen the merry steps and 
forms that are distinctively of the Norseland, accom- J 
panied by the old music. A princess of the royal house 
sanctions the revival of Scandinavianism (if the word 
be permitted) to the extent of dressing herself and the 
servants at her summer-place according to the new-old 
modes. She is popular and the movement is strength- 
ened accordingly. 

The dances are simple in step, though often compli- 
cated in figure; lively and gay in manner, and rich in 
pantomime. Accepted standards of execution require 
decided grace and a good style. Gustavus III, when he 
visited France, is said to have been deeply impressed by 
the exquisite dancing of iMarie Antoinette and her court. 
The element of beauty to be seen in Swedish dancing is 
supposed to be due in part, at least, to that royal visit. 

One of the most pleasing dance-arrangements is in- 
spired by the work of the weaver, with the happy changes 
of effect constantly wrought by the action of the loom. 
The Vafva Vadna this dance is called. It is highly com- 
plicated, the stretched threads are simulated in the lines 
of performers, through whom flashes back and forth the 
girl who represents the movements of the shuttle. Rich 



V 



i82 THE DANCE 

variety is gained by involved intercrossings of the lines 
of boys and girls. 

The taming of womankind is the motive of the panto- 
mimic Daldans. Over the head of the meekly kneeling 
woman the man swings his foot, as a symbol ; in another 
figure the woman's coquetry reduces the man to helpless- 
ness. The Vingakersdans pantomimes the competition 
of two women for the same man. The favoured one 
seats herself a moment on the man's knee, and finishes 
the number by waltzing with him; while the defeated 
charmer bites her nails with vexation. 

These are characteristic specimens of a very numer- 
ous group. Their revival seems to progress more rap- 
idly in the villages than in the big cities — interesting 
as a case of the country leading the cities in a movement 
of modernism. Many of the pantomimes are based on 
work from which the rural population is less remote than 
are those who dwell in cities. The movements of mak- 
ing a shoe are known to every villager ; he has watched 
the cobbler many a time, and known him usually as the 
local philosopher. Upon the village, therefore, no touch 
of character in the Cobblers' Dance would be lost. The 
humours of harvesting might in like manner fail to reach 
a city audience without the aid of spoken word ; harvest, 
with other elemental work, provides many of the Scan- 
dinavian dance motives. 

Holland and Belgium are alike unproductive of dan- 
cing of much phoreographic value. The strength of the 
people is not accompanied by either the lightness or 
agility found in dancing nations. As a coincidence, it 
is notable that dancing does not flourish in regions of 
wooden shoes. The Dutch have a species of sailors' 
dance called the Mdtelot, performed by groups of men 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 183 

and women ; but it is a romp and little or nothing more. 
This is characteristic of the dances of the Netherlands, 
as is confirmed by genre pictures from the time of 
Teniers down to the present. 

The Walts, it should be said at this point, is universal. 
If ever it is asserted that the people of a locality do not 
dance, an exception may be made to cover the Walts, so 
long as the locality referred to is in the Occident. The 
seeming caution with which peasants perform their 
Waltzes practically removes them from the category of 
dancing, though not from that of humour. 

France, the Eden of the Grand Ballet, the home of a 
race of lovers of beauty, might be expected to abound in 
rich character dances; but the exact reverse is true. 
The people of the country are, first of all, workers ; the 
dances that enliven their fetes are the careless celebra- 
tion of children released from confining tasks. The 
, principal cities have their opera ballets ; through them is 
■supplied the national demand for choreographic beauty. 
^^"The old name of la Bourree survives in Auvergne. 
In its present form it bears no resemblance to the old 
Bourree of eighteenth-century courts, but is one of those 
informal frolics of an indefinite number of couples, hand- 
clapping, finger-snapping, and energetic bounding, min- 
gled with shouts of joy. 

The Farandole is popular in the South of France. 
Under its name a chain of boys and girls, united by hand- 
kerchiefs that they hold, "serpentines" and zigzags in 
directions dictated by the caprice of their leader, perhaps 
traversing the length of the streets of a village. From 
time to time the leading couple will halt and form their 
arms into an arch for those following to pass under ; or 
again stop the procession in such a way as to wind up 



i84 THE DANCE 

the line into a compact mass. Again the game partakes 
of the nature of ''follow the leader/' the whole party 
imitating the leader in any antic he may perform. 

The ancient Contredanses — which word England 
changed to Country Dances, of frequent mention in story 
— were the roots of modern Quadrilles. These, how- 
ever, are polished out of any semblance to character 
dances; they are of the ballroom and infinitely removed 
from the soil. 

Germany, with its fondness for legend and care in its 
preservation, would be a fertile field for search on the 
part of a compiler of ancient observances more or less 
allied to dancing. A specimen of the latter is the Perch- 
tentans of Salzburg. Perchta is another name for 
Freya, Woden's consort and the mother of the North- 
men's gods. She is powerful even in these modern 
times, and malicious unless propitiated by proper for- 
mulae of actions and words. Placing a spoonful of food 
from each dish of the Christmas dinner for her on the 
fence outside the house is one of the tributes. She has 
spirit-followers: some kindly, called ''schon Perch fen/' 
others wild and fierce, known as ''schiachen Perchten." 
The latter alight on houses and scream mischievously, 
lure men into danger and punish undiscovered crimes. 

At irregular intervals is performed the Perchtentanz; 
not apparently as an act of propitiation, but presumably 
having that motive as its origin. Good and evil Perch- 
ten both are represented. On an accompanying page of 
European miscellany is a drawing of one of the "beauti- 
ful." The huge plaques are covered with sparkling 
trinkets and adorned with braid, ribbon and embroidery. 
Stufifed birds are also popular for their decorations; a 
dozen of them may be affixed to the lower plaque, a 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 185 







From Various Folk-dances. 
Scandinavian. Russian. 

Hungarian. Scandinavian. 

From the Perchtentanz of Salzburg. Bavarian. 
Russian Court (Princess Chirinski-Chichmatoff.) 



i86 THE DANCE 

smaller number to the upper ; an ambitious crown to the 
whole is sometimes seen in the form of a peacock with 
spread wings. The structure is supported by a rod run- 
ning down the bearer's back, and fastened to him by 
belts. Its weight prohibits any movement to which the 
word "dancing'' applies except as a convenience; but a 
series of slow and necessarily careful evolutions per- 
formed by the wearers of these displays is called a 
dance, nevertheless. Meantime the "fierce Perchten," 
made up with masks as demoniac as possible, run about 
among the legs of the crowd and do their best to startle 
people. The spirit accompanying the celebration is 
levity, modified only by the sincere admiration consid- 
ered due the serious decorations. They represent a 
great deal of work and considerable money. 

In various parts of Savoy is performed on St. Roch's 
Day what is called the Bacchu-ber. On a platform 
erected in front of a church, and decorated with gar- 
lands and fir-trees, a group of men dance with short 
swords ; passing under bridges of swords, forming chains 
by grasping one another's weapons, and so on. That 
its origin is pre-Christian seems a reasonable conjecture; 
but nothing specific is known about it. 

Munich celebrates with dancing an episode connected 
with an epidemic of cholera: the guild of coopers de- 
cided that the care the people were taking against ex- 
posure was defeating its purpose, since it was keeping 
them indoors to the detriment of health. They there- 
fore went out and enjoyed themselves as usual, for the 
sake of example. Others did the same, and the plague 
ceased. Periodically the brave coopers are honoured, 
therefore, by dances of large companies of people, who 
carry garlanded arches and execute triumphal figures. 





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The "Schuhplatteltanz" 
Herr and Frau Nagel 

A swing A turn 

A turn, man passing under woman's arms 
A swing, back-to-back The Mirror 



To face page i86 




The "Schuhplatteltanz" of Bavaria 

Preparing a turn (i) — A lift (2) — Starting woman's series of turns (3) — Start 
of woman's turns (4) — Man fans her along with hands (5) — Finish of dance (6) 



To face page 187 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 187 

The foregoing instances are no more than a specimen 
of the varieties of tradition that dancing may commem- 
orate. Europe collectively doubtless will produce thou- 
sands of such dances, when the task of collecting them is 
entered upon with the necessary combination of leisure 
and zeal. 
y^ Bavaria's Schuhplatteltanz is altogether delightful in 
itself, without aid from history or tradition to supple- 
ment its interest. It is full of a quaint Tyrolean grace 
mingled with happy and delicate grotesquery. Women 
it causes to spin as though they were some quaint species 
of combination doll and top; the atmosphere that sur- 
rounds a marvellous and pretty mechanical toy is pre- 
served in a delicate unreality in the pantomime and in 
the treatment throughout. 
J^' It is accompanied by zithers, instruments which them- 
selves sing of a world suspended somewhere in the air. 
In silvery, floating tones they play less a waltz than the 
dream of a waltz, in sounds as unmaterial as the illu- 
sive voice of an ^olian harp. " 

A little opening promenade ; a few bars of the couple's 
waltzing together — in steps infinitesimal, prim with 
conscious propriety. The man raises the girl's hand 
and starts her spinning. She neither retards nor helps, 
being a little figure of no weight, moved solely by power 
from without itself. Her skirt stands out as straight 
and steady as though it were cardboard; her partner 
must lean far over now, not to touch it and spoil the 
spin. Now she is whirling perfectly; with a parting 
impulse to her arm, he releases her. On she turns, at 
a speed steady as clockwork, revolving, as a top will, 
slowly around a large circle. 

Her partner follows, beating time in a way that be- 



i88 THE DANCE 

wilders eye and ear alike; for his hands pat shoes and 
leather breeches with a swiftness incredible and ecstatic. 
Of this perhaps sixteen bars when, as though his part- 
ner were beginning to '*run down/' he starts blow- 
ing her along with vigorous puffs. Nevertheless, she 
is slowing down; the skirt is settling. He reaches over 
it, gets his hands on her waist. To the last the spin- 
ning illusion is preserved by an appearance of her ro- 
tary motion being stopped only by the pressure of the 
man's hand as a brake. 

The foregoing interpretation is suggested by the deli- 
cate work of Herr and Frau Nagel, and the company 
with which they are associated. It is a dance whose 
fancy easily could disappear under its mechanics, if 
performed without imagination. 

Having caught his partner after her spin, waltzed 
again with her for a few bars, and lifted her up at 
arm's length in sheer playfulness, the man joins arms 
with her in such fashion as to form almost a duplicate 
of the '^mirror" figure of the Minuet, The courtliness 
of the cavalier in the Minuet is matched by adroitness 
on the part of the schuhplatteltanzer ; he contrives to 
draw his partner's head nearer and nearer to his, as 
they walk around in a lessening circle. Finally, when 
the circle of the promenade can become no smaller, and 
the faces have come close to the imaginary mirror 
framed by the arms, he suddenly but daintily kisses her 
lips. 

Germany is the home of the WaltB, of which it has 
\l evolved several varieties. The Rheinlander Waltz is 
perhaps the most popular. In one form or another it 
has spread through the Balkan countries; not, how- 
ever, with any apparent detriment to the native dances, 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 189 

because of these dances' natural crudeness. Servia, 
Montenegro and the neighbouring monarchies celebrate 
weddings and christenings and enliven picnics with a 
"round'' called in Servian language the Kolo, that em- 
ploys the simple old figures of the bridge of arms and 
the like, but which, as to step, is quite formless. Col- 
our in the costumes goes far to provide spectacular in- 
terest to these exuberant frolics. The linen gowns of 
the women are embroidered in big — and good — designs 
of two distinct reds, scarlet and rose ; emerald-green and 
a warm yellow-green ; the most brilliant of yellows ; wine- 
colour and blue. As is frequently found in a region 
that has kept a scheme of design through a sufficient 
number of generations to allow the formation of tradi- 
tions based on long experiment, the seemingly impossi- 
ble is accomplished by the peasant women of the Bal- 
kans: the colours whose enumeration on the same page 
would seem outrageous are, in practical application, 
brought into harmony. It is a question of proportionate 
size of spots of colour, and their juxtaposition. The 
results of using the same colours in new designs is to 
be seen in the expressions of sundry new schools of 
painting that refuse to acknowledge limitations. 

Men's sleeves and waistcoats are frequently embroid- 
ered in the same way as the jacket and sleeves of the 
women, as exemplified in the accompanying photographs 
of Madame Koritig. Loose linen trousers, which are 
sometimes worn, may be likewise decorated. In the 
sunlight and in appropriate surroundings, a perform- 
ance of the Kolo should be a sight to dispel trouble, 
whatever its deficiencies from the point of view of dan- 
cing. 

Greece, too, diverts itself with rustic rounds, as form- 



190 THE DANCE 

less as in other lands. Of the Hellas that gave the 
Occident its civilisation there remain some architectural 
ruins, to which latter-day inhabitants of the land may 
have given some care; and certain statues, preserved 
in the museums of other lands. For Hellenic ideals and 
Attic salt, search the hat-boy at the entrance to the res- 
taurant. The Greek of to-day is a composite of Turk 
and Slav; his dances have neither the grace of the one 
nor the fire of the other. The discovery in Greece of 
survivors of ancient dances — which discovery is occa- 
sionally asserted — may have a basis in fact; but more 
likely its foundation is in a similarity between an an- 
cient and a modern word. But enough of disappoint- 
ments and of great things lost. 
v/ Hungary, Russia and Poland have a family of strictly 
national dances that not only take a position among 
the world's best character dances; without departing 
from their true premise as expressions of racial tem- 
perament, some of them attain to the dignity of great 
romantic art, combined with optical beauty of the high- 
est order, A Czardas in one of the Pavlowa pro- 
grammes (season 1913-14) showed qualities of choreo- 
graphic composition that were equalled, in that enter- 
tainment, only by the ballet arrangements of the most 
capable composers whose works were represented. The 
juxtaposition of ballet and character numbers, per- 
formed with the same skill and accompanied by the same 
orchestra, furnished an uncommonly good measure of 
the folk-dances' actual merit. 

The Czardas, the Mazurka and the Cossack Dance 
of Russia and the Obertass of Poland form a group that 
occupy in the dance the place that Liszt's "'Hungarian 
Rhapsody" fills in music: they are the candid revela- 




Start of a turn 
An emphasis 







The "Kolo" of Servia 
Madame Koritic 



A bridge of armj 



Progress of a turn 
A lift 



To face page 190 




Poses from Slavonic Dances 
Miss Lydia Lopoukowa 



Coquetry 
Emphasis 



IndiflFerence 



Petuh 



Jocular defiance 



To face page 191 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 191 

tion of the heart of a people simple, sympathetic, un- 
restrainedly romantic, violently impulsive. Each rep- 
resents an exciting diversity of ammunition, fired in 
one rousing volley; an expression to which one may 
become accustomed, but which always remains unfa- 
miliar, and which always produces an intoxicating 
shock. The abrupt changes of movement from slow 
to fast, from furious speed to a dead standstill; the re- 
current crescendo from short, close movement to broad 
sweeps, open jete turns, and the lowest of "dips"; the 
diverse effects gained by play of rhythm — such effects 
are indescribable in word or picture. Fortunately, 
however, characteristic poses are within the range of 
the snapshot; so also, to an extent, is the expression 
of human moods — if portrayed by rare pantomimic abil- 
ity. 

Possession of such ability, backed by the unfettered 
imagination of the Tartar and accompanied by superla- 
tive artistry, describes Miss Lydia Lopoukowa. To 
her great kindness this book is indebted for the accom- 
panying photographs representing characteristic poses 
and moods of northern Slavonic dancing. Taken from 
the work of such an artist, the pictures represent an 
idealisation, or perfection, of their subjects. They 
show movements of the dances themselves, in their spirit, 
without the usual limitations imposed by physique. The 
clean-cut definition of pose; the co-ordination of pose 
and features in all the expressions of allurement, appeal, 
petulance, esctasy — these represent a standard at which 
the merely mortal dancer aims, but a conjunction of 
conditions that one may hope to see accomplished few 
times in the course of one life. 

Yet, as noted before, the dances are so composed that, 



192 THE DANCE 

performed with a degree of skill not uncommon in their 
native land, they are rich and surprising. In steps, the 
Russian, Austrian and Polish group have most of their 
material in common : naturally, since they are united by 
ties of race. The salient point by which each dance is 
distinguished, in the eye of the spectator, is one big 
step. 

The Czardas employs a long glided step that is all its 
own. The active foot is started well to the rear, and 
glided forward; the glide is accompanied by a very low 
plie of the supporting knee ; as the active foot comes into 
advanced position, the dancer sharply straightens up, 
rises to the ball of the supporting foot, and continues 
the advancing foot forward and upward in a rapid 
kick. The masculine version drops the body lower, and 
kicks higher, than the feminine; but even the latter's 
change of elevation remains fixed in the memory. 

In the Obertass, the man goes into the low stooping 
position, in connection with executing a very individual 
rond de jamhe. At the moment, he is face to face with 
his partner, his hands on the sides of her waist, her 
hands on his shoulders; after a swift step-turn in the 
usual direction, he takes a long step backward (she 
forward), and, keeping his right leg extended before 
him, stoops until he is squatting on his left heel; the 
right leg, held straight, is swept rapidly around to the 
rear; meanwhile the couple continues to turn. The 
man's momentum turns him until he faces in the same 
direction with his partner. He springs up on her right 
side, and goes with her into a short, fast polka-step. 
During the turn, the woman keeps hold of the man to 
prevent centrifugal force from flinging him into space. 

In the Mazurka (not the ballroom version) the same 







Poses from Slavonic Dances 
Miss Lydia Lopoukowa 

Negation (i) — Fear (2) — Supplication (3) — An emphasis (4) 



To face page 192 






Poses from Slavonic Dances 
Miss Lydia Lopoukowa 

Characteristic gesture (i) — Characteristic step (2) — Characteristic gesture (3) 
— Characteristic step (4) — Same, another view (5) — Ecstasy (6) — 
The claim of beauty (7) 



To face page 193 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 193 

step, modified as to elevation, is performed by both man 
and woman, alternately, during certain passages. 

The Szolo, a Hungarian dance introduced into Amer- 
ica by Mr. and Mrs. Hartmann, gives the woman a 
unique turn in the air. The woman standing at her 
partner's right, the two join their crossed hands above 
her head, she reaching up, he downward. She is turned 
by being swung through the air — in a horizontal posi- 
tion — finishing on her partner's left side. The arms, of 
course, have "unwound" from their first position, and 
re-crossed in its converse position. This movement, 
masterfully executed, is one of the devices by which the 
dance contradicts gravity. Ill done, of course, it would 
be as painful for spectator as performer. 

But these dances are not often ill done — at least by 
the people to whom they belong. We are credibly in- 
formed that the problems of involved steps and tricky 
tempo, exacting requirements of agility and expression, 
are met with a laugh; that, while great virtuosity is 
naturally rare, real elegance of execution is the rule. 
Which leads back, of course, to national choreographic 
traditions and ideals. The artistic level they occupy in 
Russia (and presumably Hungary and Poland) is indi- 
cated in a few lines of a letter to the authors from Prin- 
cess Chirinski-Chichmatofif, of Moscow. Apart from 
its value as quite the finest statement of the meaning of 
character dancing that is to be found in the literature 
of choreography, the paragraph has the interest of 
showing one of the reasons why the folk-dancing of 
northeastern Europe is good: 

In every dance the principal things are the harmony 
(1) of movements with the rhythm of the music, (2) of 
movements with the subject that the music represents. 



194 THE DANCE 

and (3) of the sentiments with the pantomime, to give 
a certain impression; and finally this, that it should be 
a dance which has exclusively the national character, 
with the movements natural [familiers] to a certain 
people and to a certain epoch. In the dance the artist 
ought to show all the richness of his soid; ought to 
instil into his movements all of that which the sculptor 
puts into his marble; while above the idea and the mood 
ought to be felt the beauty and freedom of movements 
and lines. 

Quite a difference between that and some other na- 
tional ideas of character dancing! 

Describing her national dance (i. e., the Cossack 
Dance and its derivatives) she writes: 

"The Russian dance is composed in two parts, Adagio 
and Allegro. In each part we see the traits most nat- 
ural to the people, and which were formed in historic 
times, under other conditions. 

''i. Adagio: length, freedom, tranquillity of move- 
ment with much dignity and grace, and with a little 
softness and simplicity; all relating to the traits that 
were formed during the period when all Russian women 
passed the whole time in their teremas (house of Rus- 
sian style), retired from the world, working and sing- 
ing, thinking melancholy thoughts about life but never 
seeing it in reality, never leaving the house nor being 
seen except on the rare occasion of visits. 

"2. Allegro: expresses, with the gay and popular 
songs, the vivacity, the carelessness, the humour and the 
pleasantry that were born in a people still a little bar- 
barous and simple, whose sadness and gaiety were 
somewhat naive. All the traits natural to the Rus- 
sian people are portrayed in their national dance and 



EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING 195 

in the simple music created from the most popular and 
beloved songs/' 

Within the form so sketched there is room for a wide 
variety of interpretation. The peasant expresses the 
motives of happiness and vivacity in movements that 
translate the joy of an almost wild man. An advance 
while maintaining a low squatting position, the spring 
for each step coming from a leg bent double, is a gro- 
tesquery trying to the strength of the toughest thighs. 
Still more difficult and as grotesque is a movement of 
squatting on one heel, and rapidly tracing circles with 
the extended leg held straight, as though it were the 
arm of a compass. The feminine version of the move- 
ments is less violent; but the Allegro portion of the 
woman's work is nevertheless tremendously animated 
in the rustic version of this dance. 

As the court of seventeenth-century France took the 
dances of the peasant and modified them into adorn- 
ments of ceremonious occasions, so polite society has 
done in Russia. The Court Dance is the result. Re- 
finement has not robbed it of the national qualities de- 
scribed by Princess Chirinski; her own performance of 
it demonstrates, in almost spiritual terms, the ''dignity 
and grace/' the "little softness and simplicity," the 
"sadness and gaiety" that she puts into words. 
Through her performance, too, runs an undercurrent of 
the indefinable — a hint of latent mystery that is not 
European. It is a quality not infrequently sensed in the 
work of artists of Tartar blood; it is a trace of the Ori- 
ent. 



CHAPTER IX 

ORIENTAL DANCING 

FROM a race of artists Mohammed took away the 
freedom to paint or model representations of liv- 
ing things. Yet the prohibition was a seed from 
which sprang a garden of expression more graphic than 
paint, a school of symbolism perhaps the most highly 
wrought the world has seen. 

Artist the Arab is, whether measured by tests of his 
command over abstract symbol or — in such media as his 
religion permits — vivid portrayal of nature. Of con- 
crete things and occurrences he has the alert observa- 
tion of a reporter. Upon what he sees he ponders; in- 
tensely religious, he sees the hand of Allah in many 
things, draws morals, and seeks meanings. 

His nomad forefathers mastered the geography of 
the stars, in search of a celestial message. Though the 
message be still unread, mathematical problems that vex 
the learned in academies amused the Arab when the 
race was young. Written numerals he invented, occult 
relations he sees in their functions. And, underlying 
all, he has a passion for intellectual order. 

Geometry is the educated Arab's plaything; from long 
practice he can project its figures upon the wall of imag- 
ination, free of the need of pencil. Owing to this prac- 
tice, perhaps, his thoughts express themselves in the 
form of images. His literature is crowded with them, 

vivid sketches thrown before the mind's eye; each a 

196 




Arabian "Dance of Greeting" {Continued) 

For you I will dance" (4) — "From here you will put away care" (5, 8) 
"Here you may sleep" (6) — "Here am I" (7) 



To face page 197 



ORIENTAL DANCING 197 

symbol more eloquent than description, a metaphor more 
compelling than logic. 

As astronomy was born of the search for meanings 
in the stars, so the search for mystic functions among 
the figures of geometry evolved a school of decoration 
that drowns the eye in pleasure, baffles the mind to ex- 
plain. From square and compass spring the best of the 
interlaced ornament of the palace of Alhambra — the 
ornament that raises material things to a plane almost 
exempt from material limitations. And not the de- 
signer alone gleaned from the geomancer's play with 
line. Experiments profitless to the magician yielded of 
their magic to the architect, to the end that he was able 
to make of a gateway a song of thanksgiving, of a square 
tower a hymn of aspiration — and these, if it suited him, 
by the magic of proportion alone, without the aid of any 
adornment whatever. 

Such a race, if it could have painted and drawn, would 
have produced artists superlative in more than one di- 
rection. Clear observation and the wit to discern sig- 
nificances would have made satirists and commentators 
of the most subtle kind. In picture, the Arab metaphor 
would have been better expressed, even, than in words, 
which often seem a weak translation of a graphic sym- 
bol in the Arab story-teller's mind. As to decoration, 
it seems ' inevitable that with knowledge of the figure 
and freedom to use it, the Moors that adorned Alham- 
bra's inner walls could have painted such designs as are 
not even dreamed of; for their designing — so far as 
its field extended — was to Occidental designing in gen- 
eral as evolved musical composition is to arrangement 
by guess-work. 

All these things the Arab must have done as a painter. 



198 THE DANCE 

Yet despite the injunction depriving him of life as ma- 
terial for picture and sculpture, and indeed because of 
it, he has evolved an art in which painting and sculp- 
ture unite to express the human emotions through the 
medium of the human form. That art, of course, is 
dancing. He has dignified it with his accumulated 
knowledge of decoration, imbued it with the mystic 
symbolism of his speculative mind. In light mood it 
narrates the passing occurrence or the amusing anec- 
dote. And not the least of the wonders of the Arab 
dancing is the emphasis it places upon the beauty of 
womankind. Instead of movement, as in most Euro- 
pean dancing, its essential interest is in a series of pic- 
tures, charged with significance and rich in harmony 
of line. The eye has time to dwell upon a posture, to 
revel in the sensuous grace into which it casts body and 
limb. To complete the task of sculptural composition, 
the Arabic dancer studies to a rare completeness the art 
of eliminating the many natural crudities of position that 
prevent arms, legs and body from showing to the ut- 
most advantage their physical perfection. Though the 
material body does not — in the work of a genuine artist 
— distract attention from sculptural nobility of pose, 
neither is physical attractiveness lost sight of in the 
beauties of the abstract. 

That the treasure-house of Arabian choreography 
never has been really opened to Occidental eyes is prob- 
ably due, as much as to anything else, to the Arab's 
inability to contribute any explanation to a thing which, 
by his way of thinking, explains itself. He has seen 
no dancing except that of his own race. To him Ara- 
bian dancing is not Arabian ; it is just dancing. In his 
eyes the mimetic symbols are as descriptive as spoken 




< ^ 



< = 




Arabian "Dance of Greeting" {Continued) 
"May winds refresh you" (12) — "Wherever you go" (13) 

"And your slave" (16) 
"Here is your house" (14) — "Here is peace" (15) 



To face page 199 



ORIENTAL DANCING 199 

words. Except he could see them with Occidental eyes, 
he would see nothing about them to explain. 

Europe has seen the Arabic work, and enjoyed it 
for its ocular beauty. Gerome, Constant, Bargue and 
others have painted its sinuous elegance with admirable 
results. But no insight into its motives has become 
general, nor has any key to its meaning heretofore been 
printed, so far as can be ascertained, in any European 
language. 

America still further than Europe has been excluded 
from satisfactory acquaintance with the Oriental, be- 
cause it has been so rarely presented here except in a 
manner to defame it. At the World's Fair in Chicago, 
where we saw it first, its sinuous body-movement caused 
a shock. Along that line opportunist managers saw 
profit. Sex — an institution whose existence is frankly 
admitted by every civilisation except our own — was, 
under managerial inspiration, insisted upon to the ex- 
clusion of every other motive of the dance; and insisted 
upon in such a manner as to make it repulsive. Ruth 
St. Denis has gone far in removing the resulting stigma 
from the art of India and Egypt. That the prejudice 
is not going to persist in the face of a national common- 
sense and love of beauty is further indicated in the re- 
ception met by the work of Fatma a couple of seasons 
ago in The Garden of Allah; a Moroccan woman, doing 
work unreservedly typical of her country, always re- 
ceived with delight by the audience, and never regarded 
from the wrong point of view. 

The mission of calling Western attention to that 
which lies below the surface of Arabic dancing, how- 
ever, appears to have remained for Zourna, the Tu- 
nisian. To her it is possible, by virtue of a point of 



200 THE DANCE 

view resulting from a dual education, Mohammedan 
and European. 

Zourna is the daughter of an Arab father and a 
French mother, who lived in Tunis. In childhood she 
was taught the Arab girl's accomplishments, dancing 
included; but an occasional visit to France enabled her 
at all times to see her African way of living somewhat 
as it would appear to the European. In the natural 
course of events she married; destined, however, to a 
short time of enjoyment of the dreamy dancing of the 
sheltered harem. The death of her husband and loss 
of fortune drove her to dance in cafes. That genus 
of work she had time to learn well before Fate again 
intervened. A chain of circumstances brought her an 
opportunity to study ballet in the French Academy. It 
was not her medium of expression, but it gave her a 
clear measure of the difference between the Oriental and 
Occidental philosophies of the dance. 

Of formulated dances the Arab has few, and those 
no more set than are the words of our stories : the point 
must not be missed, but we 'may choose our own vocab- 
ulary. In terms of the dance, the Arab entertainer tells 
stories; in the case of known and popular stories she 
follows the accepted narrative, but improvises the move- 
ments and poses that express it, exactly as though they 
were spoken words instead of pantomime. Somewhat 
less freedom necessarily obtains in the narration of 
dance-poems than in the recital of trifling incident; but 
within the necessary limits, originality is prized. In 
the mimetic vocabulary are certain phrases that are de- 
pended upon to convey their definite meanings. New 
word-equivalents, however, are always in order, if they 





Arabian "Dance of Mourning" 
By Zourna 

The body approaches (i) — The body passes (2) — "I hold my sorrow to 

myself " (3) 



To face page 200 




Arabian "Dance of Mourning" {Continued) 
He has gone out of the house and up to Heaven" (4) — "Farewell" (5) 



To face page 201 



ORIENTAL DANCING 201 

can stand the searching test of eyes educated in beauty 
and minds trained to exact thinking. 

Nearly unHmited as it is in scope, dehghtful as it un- 
failingly is to those who know it, Arabic dancing suits 
occasions of a variety of which the dances of Europe 
never dreamed. In the cafe it diverts and sometimes 
demoralises. In his house the master watches the dan- 
cing of his slaves, dreaming under the narcotic spell of 
rhythm. On those rare occasions when the demands 
of diplomacy or business compel him to bring a guest 
into his house, the dancing of slaves is depended upon to 
entertain. His wives dance before him to please his 
eye, and to cajole him into conformity with their desires. 

Even the news of the day is danced, since the doc- 
trines of Mohammed depress the printing of almost 
everything except the Koran. Reports of current 
events reach the male population in the market and the 
cafe. At home men talk little of outside affairs, and 
women do not get out except to visit others of their kind, 
as isolated from the world as themselves. But they get 
all the news that is likely to interest them, none the less ; 
at least the happenings in the world of Mohammedan- 
ism. 

As venders of information of passing events, there 
are women that wander in pairs from city to city, from 
harem to harem, like bards of the early North. As 
women they are admitted to women's apartments. 
There, while one rhythmically pantomimes deeds of war 
to the cloistered ones that never saw a soldier, or graph- 
ically imitates the punishment of a malefactor in the 
market-place, her companion chants, with falsetto 
whines, a descriptive and rhythmic accompaniment. 



202 THE DANCE 

Thus is the harem protected against the risk of nar- 
rowness. 

In the daily Hfe of the harem, dancing is one of the 
favoured pastimes. Women dance to amuse themselves 
and to entertain one another. In the dance, as in 
music and embroidery, there is endless interest, and a 
spirit of emulation usually friendly. 

One of the comparatively formalised mimetic expres- 
sions is the Dance of Greeting, the function of which is 
to honour a guest when occasion brings him into the 
house. Let it be imagined that coffee and cigarettes 
have been served to two grave gentlemen; that one has 
expressed bewilderment at the magnificence of the es- 
tablishment, and his opinion that too great honour has 
been done him in permitting him to enter it; that the 
host has duly made reply that his grandchildren will 
tell with pride of the day when this poor house was so 
far honoured that such a one set his foot within it. 
After which a sherbet, more coffee and cigarettes. 
When the time seems propitious, the host suggests to 
the guest that if in his great kindness he will look at her, 
he — the host — would like pern;ission to order a slave to 
try to entertain with a dance. 

The musicians, squatting against the wall, begin the 
wailing of the flute, the hypnotic throb of *'darabukkeh." 
She who is designated to dance the Greeting enters hold- 
ing before her a long scarf that half conceals her; the 
expression on her face is surprise, as though honour 
had fallen to her beyond her merits or expectation. 
Upon reaching her place she extends her arms forward, 
then slowly moves them, and with them the scarf, to 
one side, until she is revealed. When a nod confirms 
the command to dance, she quickly drops the scarf to the 



ORIENTAL DANCING 203 

floor, advances to a place before the guest and near him, 
and honours him with a slave's salutation. Then aris- 
ing she proceeds to her silent greeting. 

"You are implanted in your house,'' says a move- 
ment [see photographs]. "Here is food, here may you 
sleep well. When you go forth, go you East, West, 
North, South [indicating quarter-circles by pointing the 
toe], yet you are here. May Allah's blessings descend 
upon you. ]\Iay the breezes blow upon you, may the 
rain refresh you, may abundance be showered upon 
you; yet may you remember that here you are in your 
house, and that here is your slave." 

That is the lifeless skeleton of the story, without 
grace, or the animation of movement, or the embellish- 
ment of expression. To try to force words into an 
equivalent of the semi-ritualistic splendour of the dance 
would be attempting to build a Moorish palace of dry 
grains of sand. 

In Occidental entertainment, when a performer has 
gained the sanctuary of the platform, he is practically 
immune from interruption until his "number" is fin- 
ished — unless exception be made of "amateur night" in 
vaudeville houses, where offenders are forcibly removed 
with a hook, or suddenly enveloped in darkness. With 
that probably unique exception, however, the audience 
confronted by an indifferent performer can only sum- 
mon patience. The Orient offers no such security, to 
the dancer at least. At the first sign of failure to in- 
terest, a signal, perhaps no more noticeable than the raise 
of an eyelid, commands the dancer to cease. Not later, 
but instantly. 

To interrupt a dance of movement without regard to 
its argument would be worse than interrupting a story. 



204 THE DANCE 

It would not only undo the preceding work; it would 
be very likely to arrest the artist in a transitional posi- 
tion, in itself weak. At all events, such an interruption 
would painfully mar an entertainment programme. But 
the Arabian dance is not a dance of movement; it is 
a dance of pictures, to which movement is wholly sub- 
ordinate. Each bar of the music accompanies a pic- 
ture complete in itself. Within the measure of each 
bar the dancer has time for the movements leading from 
one picture to the next, and to hold the picture for the 
instant necessary to give emphasis. At whatever mo- 
ment she may be stopped, therefore, she is within less 
than a second of a pose so balanced and sculptural that 
it appears as a natural termination of the dance. The 
Oriental's general indifference to the forces of accumu- 
lation and climax are consistent with such a capricious 
ending. In his dance, each phrase is complete in itself; 
it may be likened to one of those serial stories in our 
magazines, in which each instalment of the story is self- 
sufficient. 

To the Occidental unused to Oriental art, the absence 
of crescendo and climax, and the substituted iteration 
carried on endlessly, is uninteresting. Nevertheless, a 
few days of life among Oriental conditions suffice to 
throw many a scoffer into attunement with the Oriental 
art idea. Which is to soothe, not to stimulate. Moor- 
ish ornament is an indefinitely repeated series of mar- 
vellously designed units, each complete in itself, yet in- 
extricably interwoven with its neighbours. In music 
the beats continue unchanging through bar after bar, 
phrase after phrase. The rhythmic repetition of the 
tile-designs on the wall, the decorative repetition of the 
beats of music, produce a spell of dreamy visioning com- 



ORIENTAL DANCING 205 

parable only to the effect of some potent but harmless 
narcotic. 

To the foregoing* generality exception must again 
be made of the dancing in cafes. While it conforms to 
the structure of a picture-complete-in-each-bar, its treat- 
ment is more or less at variance with the idea of sooth- 
ing. But the symbolism is likely to lack nothing of 
picturesqueness. The Handkerchief Dance is charac- 
teristic of the type. 

Of the two handkerchiefs used in this dance one rep- 
resents the girl herself, the other her soon-to-be-selected 
lover. She first takes a corner of each handkerchief 
into her teeth, warming them into life. She lays them 
parallel on the floor and indifferently dances around 
and between them, to state her power to cross the line 
and return free from entanglements of lover's claims. 
Into the waistband of her trousers she tucks opposite 
corners of both handkerchiefs so that they' hang as pan- 
niers: the hands pushed through show the panniers 
empty; she would receive gifts. To show, too, that she 
can give, a flourishing gesture releases a corner of each, 
to spill the imagined contents. Interest progresses until 
as a climax she kisses one of the fluttering cloths, slowly 
passes it downward over heart and body, and throws it 
in a wad to the elected one. The token is his passport 
to her ; and its return at any later time is announcement 
that she no longer interests him. 

One dance the Arabs have that is not associated with 
the idea of symbolism, but is rather a vehicle for the 
display of technical skill for skill's own sake. It is the 
Flour Dance. On the floor a design is drawn in an even 
layer of flour — a favourite figure is the square imposed 
on a circle, familiar in Saracenic ornament. The dan- 



2o6 THE DANCE 

cer's first journey over the figure establishes a series 
of footprints ; a successful performance consists in plant- 
ing the feet in the same tracks during subsequent rounds. 
Difficulties can be added by crossings of the feet, turns 
and other involutions, and multiplied by increasing speed. 
This dance was mentioned in connection with the an- 
cient Greek Dance of the Spilled Meal, of which it may 
reasonably be supposed to be either a direct descendant 
or a surviving ancestor. 

There are a number of little dances popular in light 
entertainment. In one, a woman in the act of eaves- 
dropping is startled by a lizard dropping on her back. 
Her efforts to get rid of it attract her husband from his 
[imagined] conversation on the other side of the cur- 
tain. She must now explain why she was standing at 
the curtain, and above all she must appear calm. The 
comedy opportunity lies in her efforts not to squirm away 
from the [imagined] lizard. 

Another of these one-character sketches tells of the 
lazy washerwoman. She enters steadying on her head 
an imaginary basket of linen. Arriving at the edge of 
the stream she puts down the basket, kneels, and indo- 
lently begins mauling and scrubbing the garments over 
the half-submerged rocks. (And she turns the move- 
ments into poetry!) But her attention wanders from 
uncongenial work. Whose hasn't? one sympathetically 
asks oneself as one watches. She looks up the stream, 
and down; her eye sees beauties, and her mind finds 
subjects to wonder about. She falls a-dreaming, and 
then asleep — still kneeling. 

When she wakens, the other women have finished 
their work and gone, and it is late. Not stopping to 
wring out the clothes that she hurriedly collects from the 




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ORIENTAL DANCING 207 

pool, she throws them into the basket. Humour is put 
into the artist's mimicry of the poor woman's efforts to 
avoid the dripping water, while carrying the weight of 
a basket of wet clothes balanced on her head. Em- 
bodying as it does both dream-sentiment and comedy, 
the little pantomime is a pretty vehicle for versatility. 

A serious story is that of the Mohammedan woman 
who, against her father's wishes, has married a Jew. 
The representation opens with the woman's entrance 
to the room where her father lies dying. Her hair 
falls loose in token of mourning or penitence. She 
kneels beside the death-bed, and strips off her many jew- 
els. Her vow to re-enter the fold of Islam she shows 
by drawing a strand of her hair across her mouth, sug- 
gesting the face-covering of the women of Mohamme- 
dan faith. The father offers his hand to be kissed. 
Grateful, she slowly rises, crosses the room, closes and 
bolts the door, in token of shutting out all but the pa- 
ternal faith. 

The dance of mourning for the dead is a fixed com- 
position only to the extent of including certain accepted 
postures; their sequence is not prescribed. "Here he 
lies dead ; Allah takes him. I am as a fallen tree ; I am 
alone. He held me in his arms; we played together; 
and he was my protector." In such manner runs the 
widow's lament for her departed husband. Pulsing 
through all is the solemn beat of "darabukkeh" under- 
toning the wails of mourners. 

The Bedoui of the desert celebrate marriage, peace- 
compacts, declarations of war and other happy occa- 
sions with a gun-dance, which is known as a Fantasia 
or Fantaisie. It in no way conforms to the fundamen- 
tals of Arabic dancing, and in fact it is a dance in name 



2o8 THE DANCE 

only. But it is joyous exceedingly. Approximately 
rhythmic rifle-firing is continuous from beginning to 
end. Performers both mounted and afoot leap and 
whirl in maniac confusion, shooting up, down and all 
around in merry abandon. Dust, howls and powder- 
smoke attack ears, eyes and throat in unison, and the 
only unhappy ones in the gay assemblage are those that 
Allah wills to have been shot, stepped on by horses, or 
both. 

Tangier is the setting of an occasional savage cele- 
bration of religious fanaticism; and these celebrations, 
too, fall into a category of quasi-dancing. They are 
demonstrations of a sect styled the Hamadsha. To a 
deafening accompaniment of fifes and drums, a few lead- 
ers start a crude hopping dance in the market-place. 
The number of participants grows rapidly; excitement 
increases with the number, until, at a point of frenzy, 
the leaping fanatics begin hacking their heads with axes. 
The example is so contagious that small boys dash into 
the melee and snatch axes from the hands of men, to 
inflict the same castigation. Christian spectators fre- 
quently faint at the spectacle, but fascination holds them 
at their windows until they are overcome. During the 
four hours or more that the blood-spilling continues, as 
well as during a period before and after, the street is 
a dangerous place for the unbeliever. 

Ostrander, the traveller, while in Constantinople, 
found himself unaccountably in the midst of a celebra- 
tion dififering in character from those of the Hamadsha 
of Tangier only in the respect of being held at night. 
The resemblance in all essentials indicates the existence 
of Mohammedan undercurrents completely unknown to 
the Western world. 



ORIENTAL DANCING 209 

Egypt, notwithstanding centuries of Arab domination, 
preserves — or re-creates — in her dancing the style 
shown in the carvings of the Pharaoh dynasties. In 
contrast to the softly curving Arab movements, the 
Egyptian's definitely incline to straight lines. Gestures 
change their direction in angles, rather than curves. 
Poses of perfect symmetry are sought. Even when 
symmetry is absent, the serpentine, plastic character of 
Arab movement is pertinently avoided. The sentiment 
of architecture is cultivated; the head is not turned on 
the shoulders, nor the torse on the hips, except as such 
relaxation is required in the interest of pantomime. In 
movement and position the Egyptian seeks verticals, 
horizontals and right angles. To the beauty of the 
work the severely geometrical treatment adds an ar- 
chitectural quality almost startling in its surety and 
majesty. 

Egyptian form "toes out'' the artist's feet, so that they 
are seen without perspective when the performer is 
facing the spectator. 

Whether the dances of the Valley of the Nile estab- 
lished the conventions of early relief carvings, or 
whether, on the other hand, the carvings determined 
the character of the dances, is a question neither pos- 
sible nor necessary to decide. Both arts certainly were 
the expression of rigid religious ceremonialism, and 
likely are twins. To-day the records in granite are the 
subject of conscious study on the part of dancers. In 
the past, too, they undoubtedly have been chart and 
compass to the sculpture of ephemeral flesh and blood, 
that unguided might have perished in any one of the 
thousands of generations of its existence. 

In type of subject and motive the dances of Egypt 



210 THE DANCE 

resemble those of the Barbary States, as above described. 
Mourning, homage and incident are narrated in about 
the same vocabulary, the dissimilarity of technique be- 
ing comparable to a dialectic difference of pronunciation 
of a language. On their commercial side the two are 
identical. In tourist-ridden cafes of Cairo and Port 
Said, as in those of Tangier and Algiers, girls dance 
what the tourist expects and wishes. In the Coptic 
town of Esneh, dwelling in the ruined temples, is a 
community of people known as Almees. They are lit- 
erally a tribe of dancers, removed by a khedive in 
former times from Cairo on grounds of impropriety. 
Dancing as they do in the temples of five thousand years 
ago, they form a curious link with antiquity. Their 
work, however, is said to be shaped to the tourist de- 
mand. 

Such dances, however, despite the insistence with 
which they are pushed upon the attention of tourists, 
are not of the kind with which the name of Egypt de- 
serves to be associated. The mystic still dwells along 
the shores of the Nile; but its votaries do not commer- 
cialise it, nor is it a commodity that lends itself to sale 
and purchase, even were there a disposition so to de- 
grade it. One of the dances illustrated by Zourna sym- 
bolises in terms as delicate as the most ethereal imag- 
inings, the awakening of the soul. 

The body's initial lack of the spiritual spark is repre- 
sented by the crossed hands, as bodies are carved on sep- 
ulchres. An imperceptible glide through a series of 
poses so subtly distinguished from one another that 
movement, from one moment to the next, is unseen, 
creates an atmosphere mysterious and almost chill in 
its twilight gloom. Gropingly the arms rise to the po- 








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"Dance of the Soul's Journey" (Continued) 
She draws aside the veil of the future (5) — Life is seen full and plenteous (6) 



To face page 21 » 



ORIENTAL DANCING 211 

sition that symbolises prayer for the divine Hght — the 
hand below the chin emphasising the upturn of the face, 
the upper hand suggesting the flame. With awe the 
new intelligence gazes upon the world, open-eyed; then 
it must draw aside the veil of the future. Fulness of 
life is seen awaiting, which the dancer expresses by a 
gesture representing roundness, the accepted Oriental 
representation of completeness and richness. But wait ! 
she will grow old, and with bent back will walk stumbling 
at the heels of a camel. But a defiance to age and the 
future! Now she is young; her body is straight and 
her limbs round. A defiant expression of the joy of 
life follows, yet undertoned withal with unforgettable 
sadness; movements of happiness, a face of tragedy. 

The sombre majesty of the pictures, especially those 
of the search into the future; the reverence-compelling 
mystery of the somnambulistic movements — a hundred 
things about this dance raise it to the very uppermost 
plane of its kind of art. So far beyond mere skill are 
its movements, so completely alien to anything in Occi- 
dental knowledge, that to Occidental eyes they are as 
unearthly as they are imposing. Reason fails, chloro- 
formed by beauty; the real becomes the unreal, the un- 
real the real. Imagination is released from the tentacles 
of fact and time. The future ? It could be seen for the 
trouble of turning the head to look ; but what profit fore- 
knowledge either of cuts or caresses? Curiosity is 
for the very young. Better and wiser the lot of igno- 
rance. . . . 

Hypnotism of a kind? Granted. Finely rendered, 
this dance represents the utmost development of the co- 
ordination of rhythm, sentiment, and appropriateness 
of movement. That combination in its turn is undoubt- 



212 THE DANCE 

edly the essence of the Oriental magic that, since the 
world was young, has enabled men to dream dreams 
and see visions. Among the newer civilisations the 
emotional power of rhythm is as unknown as it is un- 
tried. 

The Egyptian's passion for decoration is served by 
the dance, no less ably than is his love of the metaphys- 
ical. In the homes of the rich there is said to be a form 
of decorative choreography, like a ballet in structure, 
that duplicates and animates a painted or sculptured 
frieze on the walls of the room. The dancers enter one 
at a time, taking their positions in turn under the fig- 
ures of the frieze, copying each in pose as they come into 
place under it. The intervals between poses are of 
course enriched by carefully related movements, so that 
the line of dancers, advancing together from figure to 
figure, shall move as a harmonised unit. The scheme 
creates a manifold interest: the line of dancers repre- 
sents an animated version of the frieze; though it is 
seen to move, its figures remain in a sense unchanged; 
yet to watch any one performer is to see her change 
constantly. The human line and the mural frieze col- 
lectively form a background for the work of a leading 
dancer, who flits from place and duplicates the poses of 
such figures as she may choose. 

In another entertainment, descriptions tell of huge 
vases carried in and placed back of the dancing space, 
as though they were decorative adjuncts forgotten un- 
til the last moment. They are placed, and the servants 
retire, just before the first dancer opens the programme. 
A spectator unfamiliar with the diversion would notice 
that the vases were elaborately ornamented with carved 
figures. These one by one relax their archaic severity 




"Dance of the Soul's Journey" (Continued) 

Yet now, from the crown of her head (lo) — To the soles of her feet she is 

perfect (ii) 



To face page 213 



ORIENTAL DANCING 213 

of pose and very slowly come to life. Keeping the col- 
our of the stone and without wholly losing its unbending 
character, each dances her allotted number and returns 
to her pose on the vase. 

The foregoing is by no means a complete list of 
Egypt's dances of decorative interest or occult signifi- 
cance. Dance representations of subjects of every- 
day interest are also popular; there is one that sketches 
a series of incidents connected with a hunt with a fal- 
con. But, as stated in another place, the choreographic 
taste of Egypt has many points of similarity with that 
of the Arabs of all the southern coast of the Mediter- 
ranean. Egyptian technique is distinct, its interpreta- 
tion of the abstract is marvellously developed, its union 
of the dance with architecture is its own. But its taste 
in pantomimes of light motive is already characterised 
without the addition of further examples. 

Following Oriental dancing eastward toward India, 
its probable birthplace, it is found to preserve with ap- 
proximate consistency certain general characteristics. 
The combined pantomimic and decorative use of the 
arms, subject to regional ideas as to w^hat comprises 
decorative quality, runs through it all. The apparent 
freedom of chest, abdomen and hips from any restrict- 
ing inter-relationships, is an attribute of it emphasised 
in some localities more than others ; it decreases toward 
the north, generally speaking. The women of Turkey 
compare with those of the Barbary States in phenomenal 
flexibility and control of the abdominal muscle — result- 
ing in capability for a species of contortion not at all 
agreeable when exaggerated. 

A principle of all Oriental dancing is its frank ac- 
knowledgment of avoirdupois. It employs none of the 



214 THE DANCE 

devices by which Hghtness is achieved, choosing as its 
aim, rather, the representation of a plastic quahty that 
exploits rather than denies the meatiness of flesh texture. 
The heel is not often raised high from the ground, and 
indeed the foot is often planted flat. A mannerism in- 
tensely characteristic of the Oriental use of the foot is 
a trick of quickly changing its direction after it is set 
on the floor but before the weight of the body is shifted 
to it ; the twist may leave the heel stationary as a pivot, 
or the ball. The effect is as though the dancer were 
making a feint to deceive the spectator as to the direc- 
tion of the next turn, and doubtless such contribution 
to interest is the intent. It at least adds intricacy, and 
directs attention to a pretty foot. Of the latter adorn- 
ment, whether covered with little Turkish slipper with 
turned-up toe, or bare, possessors are impartially proud. 

Mystery of movement in certain parts is a further 
characteristic distinguishing the Oriental work from 
anything to be found in the Occident, with the exception 
of certain tricks of the Spanish Gipsy — tricks which, 
after all, furnish no exception, since they are Moorish 
absolutely. The Oriental covers little space in her work. 
A space large enough to kneel on would admit all that 
her art requires. She has no leaps to make, nor open 
leg-movements. Much of the time she has both feet 
on the floor, is active chiefly in arms and body. Much 
more of the time her feet are engaged in steps hardly 
noticeable. 

The foregoing observations on Oriental work apply 
more particularly to the low latitudes than to lands far- 
ther removed from the equator. China and Japan have 
a choreography like that of the Southern regions in 
some respects; but their custom of bundling the dancer 



ORIENTAL DANCING 



215 







Miscellaneous Oriental Notes. 

Dancing girls of Biskra. 

Turkish Sword Dance. 

Egyptian bas-relief, Metropolitan Museum, N. Y. 

Japanese Dance of War. Japanese Flower Dance. 

The Hula-Hula Dance, Hawaiian Islands. 



2i6 THE DANCE 

up in clothes is the cause also of differences so pro- 
nounced that they had best be considered as of a differ- 
ent category. Purely as a convenience, therefore, let 
it be understood that Japanese and Chinese dancing 
shall be referred to by those names; and that the word 
Oriental shall be understood to signify the dances of 
the sinuous-body type, to which pertain those of the 
Arabs of North Africa and elsewhere, the Persians, 
Turks and some others. 

To the dancing of men, where any is done, generali- 
ties as to the style of Oriental dancing fail to fit in many 
cases. Exceptions are not numerous, however ; because, 
if for no other reason, far the greater part of Oriental 
dancing is done by women. Of the few exceptions some 
are dances of religion, others of war. 

An intoxicating Sword Dance is practiced in Turkey. 
Like almost everything else that is danced (or sung or 
acted) its merit of course depends in great degree on 
the quality of its interpretation. Well done, this Turk- 
ish Sword Dance shows itself a composition of rare in- 
dividuality and a fine, wild beauty; for good measure, 
it is a sword combat of a reality that threatens the spec- 
tator with heart failure. The two combatants advance 
and retreat, accenting the music with clashes of sword 
on shield ; the interest is that of a barbarously beautiful 
dance as long as they continue to face each other. Not- 
withstanding rapidity, the chances are against a mis- 
hap. But when of a sudden both launch themselves 
on a series of lightning rond de jambe pirouettes, the 
scimitars sweeping around fast enough to cut a man 
in two if he should fail to parry, the affair becomes a 
sporting event, and that of a kind to harrow the nerves. 

Turkey also is the place, or one of the places, where 



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ORIENTAL DANCING 217 

Whirling Dervishes are educated for their curious call- 
ing. Mr. H. C. Ostrander is authority for the state- 
ment that an apprenticeship of a thousand days is con- 
sidered a necessary preparation for proper performance 
of this apparently simple act of devotion. Since nothing 
whatever is attempted in step beyond that v^hich the 
ballet-dancers call 'Italian turns/' it must be supposed 
that the art of the Whirling Dervish has qualities that 
do not appear on the surface. It is taught in monas- 
teries scattered through the mountainous regions. 

The Caucasus, that land less known than fabled, has 
dances of a fame as persistent as it is vague. Its map 
is dotted with names immortalised in the Arabian Nights, 
It is the setting of Scheherazade and Sumurun; a re- 
gion whose inhabitants declare their intention never to 
become Occidentalised, and whom no power is likely to 
push in any direction. Being under the Czar's domin- 
ion, most of its few visitors are Russians; they alone 
among Occidentals possess any definite knowledge of 
its choreography. Princess Chirinski-Chichmatoff, at 
present making it an object of special study, writes the 
following in reply to an inquiry from the authors : 

"Lezginka, the Oriental Dance of the Caucasus, was 
born in the mountains of a beautiful country whose na- 
ture is wild and grandiose; among a people courageous 
and energetic, who have preserved much of the sav- 
agery and temperament of the Oriental races. 

''The men of these people . . . have the custom of 
never parting from the poniard. They pass the greater 
part of their time horseback, always prepared to meet 
an enemy and to defend the happiness and honour of 
the family. To this day they retain the custom of an- 
swering for every spilling of blood with a revenge ; each 



2i8 THE DANCE 

victim has his victim. There still exists the custom of 
abducting the fiancee from the paternal house and car- 
rying her away to one's own. The women have all the 
timidity of beings who live under the strongest of des- 
potism. They have preserved all the softness and grace 
of daughters of the Orient, with body accustomed to 
careful attention and not to any physical work; who 
seek only to rest, to look at themselves, and to enjoy 
the gifts by which they are favoured by nature and 
usage. Under this exterior the woman keeps covered 
many passions which sleep until the first moment of 
provocation, when they break forth like the eruption of 
a volcano — surrounding her with fire that sweeps with 
it any imprudent one that happens to be near. Pas- 
sion is the principal theme in the life of an Oriental 
woman, and that sentiment she can vary like a vir- 
tuoso. . . . 

"You see her quiet, beautiful, relaxed, in the calm of 
a great fatigue, with softness enveloping face and move- 
ments. Suddenly one detects an unusual sound, a look 
cast, a movement — she is fired, she becomes fierce and 
wild like all the Nature around her. You see before 
you a tigress, beautiful, live and strong, ready to spring 
on the prey, playing and attracting, making mischief 
and exhausting herself at the same time. After which 
her movements become few, slow, tired and melancholy. 

"Thus is Oriental dancing built on contrasts; senti- 
ments and moods change unexpectedly. Gentle, re- 
laxed and melancholy, of a sudden it is brusque, ani- 
mated, fiery. It has much coquetry, passion, and often 
tragedy." 

In India dancing is sharply divided into the classes 
of sacred and profane. In the latter division are to be 




From the Dances of the Falcon 
By Zourna 

Shock as the bird strikes his quarry (i) — Rejoicing as he overcomes it (2) 



To face page 21 




Dancing Girls of Algiers 



To face page 219 



ORIENTAL DANCING 



219 




Reliefs on Tower of the Temple of Madura (India). 



220 THE DANCE 

found dances of ceremony, pantomimic representa- 
tions of wide variety, and eccentricities that almost tres- 
pass on the domain of sleight-of-hand. The best known 
is a Dance of Eggs, The performer, as she starts 
whirling, takes eggs one by one from a basket that she 
carries, and sets them into slip-nooses at the several ends 
of cords that hang from her belt. Centrifugal motion 
pulls each cord taut as soon as it receives the weight of 
an egg. Finally all the cords, numbering from a dozen 
to twenty, are extended, each bearing its insecurely 
fastened egg. The dance is completed by collecting the 
eggs and returning them unbroken to the basket. 

Another diversion is the Cobra Dance popularised in 
America by Miss Ruth St. Denis — assisted by numer- 
ous imitators. One hand is held in a shape to suggest 
the form of a cobra's head, and huge jewels add a strik- 
ing resemblance to the creature's eyes. The performer 
of the cobra representation sits cross-legged. The 
hand suggesting the snake's head glides over the body, 
with frequent sudden pauses to reconnoitre; the arm 
following it — in the case of Miss St. Denis so amazingly 
supple and so skilfully made to seem jointless that it sug- 
gests the snake's body almost to reality — takes the ap- 
propriate sinuous movements around shoulders and 
neck. The free hand completes that which at times is 
almost an illusion by stroking and semi-guiding the 
head. Miss St. Denis herself watches the hand with 
just the alertness and caution to convey an impression 
of latent danger of which she, the snake charmer, is not 
afraid, but which she must anticipate with keen atten- 
tion. Withal she never for an instant slips from her 
high key of grace, rhythm and style. 

It IS to Miss St. Denis that America and western 



ORIENTAL DANCING 221 

Europe owe the greater part of their impressions of the 
dancing of the Far East. She has given the subject 
years of study; with the object, far more comprehen- 
sive than an imitation or reproduction of specific dances, 
of interpreting the Oriental spirit. To this end Miss 
St. Denis uses the structural facts of the various dances 
as a basis for an embodiment of their character in such 
form that it shall be comprehensible to Western eyes 
and among Western surroundings. The loss insep- 
arable from the adaptation of such a creation to the 
conventions of the stage, she compensates — perhaps 
more than compensates — by a concerted use of lights, 
colour and music, co-operating to produce a sense of 
dreamy wonder, and to unite in the expression of a 
certain significance. 

Her Nautch Dance, with its whirling fountain of 
golden tissue, she sets in the palace of a rajah, where 
it serves a social purpose similar to that of the Dance 
of Greeting already described. The Spirit of Incense is 
an interpretation of the contemplative spirit that ac- 
companies Buddhistic thought and worship. The Tem- 
ple — with which Miss St. Denis remains an inseparable 
part, in the mind of every one who has seen it — throws 
the spectator into an attitude of something like awe at 
the rise of the curtain, so perfectly considered is an in- 
definable relationship of magnificence and semi-gloom 
in the setting. An idol occupies a shrine in the centre 
of the stage. After a stately ritual executed by priests, 
the idol (Radha) descends and performs a Dance of the 
Five Senses, glorifying physical enjoyment. Inter- 
woven with increasing manifestations of pleasure in 
the senses is a counter-expression of increasing despair. 
The opposed sentiments reach their climaxes simulta- 



222 THE DANCE 

neously. Radha resumes her shrine, and the attitude 
of endless contemplation, in token that peace of spirit 
lies only in denial of sensual claims. 

The technical character with which Miss St. Denis 
invests the Indian representations is, first, the elimina- 
tion of any movement that might detract from a feeling 
of continuity. Every action proceeds in waves ; a ripple 
slowly undulates down the body, and even seems to con- 
tinue on its way into the earth ; like a wave running the 
length of a cord, a ripple glides from body through the 
extended arms and fingers, to go on indefinitely through 
the air. Rapid movements are employed only enough 
to meet the demands of variety. Long gesture, long 
line, deliberate action and even colour quality are held 
in an indescribable rapport with the insistent tempo 
with which the whole is bound together; there is no 
escape from acceptance of the resultant multiple rhythm ; 
it is inevitable. A simple, rapid movement, therefore, 
introduced with due consideration of all the parts of 
the complex, magic mechanism, has the dramatic power 
literally to startle. 

The success of the composition as a whole, in its pur- 
pose of conveying an impression of the very essence 
of an aspect of India, is asserted most emphatically by 
those to whom that mysterious land is best known. To 
regard the production as an exposition of Indian dan- 
cing would be quite beside the point. The dances, 
though wholly consistent with their originals in point 
of character, are only a part of a whole. Nor do they 
pretend to exploit the complete range of Indian choreo- 
graphy; Miss St. Denis herself would be the first to 
disclaim any such intention. As she explains her work, 
she uses the dancing of a people as a basis on which to 




Javanese Dancer, Modern 



To face page 222 






Relief Carvings, Temple of Borobodul, Java 
Dance of Greeting [?] (i) — Dance of Worship (2) — An Arrow Dance (3) 



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ORIENTAL DANCING 223 

compose a translation of that people's point of view and 
habit of thought. 

To exactly the same process Bizet subjected the music 
of Spain to produce the score of Carmen; Le Sage to 
construct Gil Bias. Than the latter there is nothing 
in Spain that could more quickly acquaint a foreigner 
with certain aspects of "Espanolism." 

A link with antiquity is furnished by multitudinous 
carvings of dancers on Hindu and Buddhistic temples 
in India and Java. The temple in Java, some of whose 
sculpture is here reproduced, was recently rediscovered 
after several centuries of burial in a jungle. It is 
known to be at least eight hundred years old. A com- 
parison between the style of the dancers there repre- 
sented, that of the little Javanese present-day dancer 
shown in a photograph, and that which is indicated in 
line drawings (from photographs of temples in India) 
hints at indefinite age back of Oriental dancing as we 
know it, as to style, technique and spirit. The photo- 
graphs, including those from which the line drawings 
were made, are from the collection of Mr. H. C. Os- 
trander. 

With variations, the India type of movement and 
pantomime, with the practice of striking a significant 
pose at regular intervals, continues eastward as far as 
the Hawaiian Islands. The Hula-Hula of the graceful 
Hawaiians has been well exemplified recently in an in- 
terpolation in The Bird of Paradise. Essentially, the 
Hula-Hula is a dance of coquetry; its thematic posi- 
tion, which recurs like a refrain, is that shown in one 
of the accompanying drawings. 

Any effort to trace the path of Oriental dancing far- 
ther east than the Hawaiian Islands leads to the shoals 



224 THE DANCE 

of unsubstantial speculation. Aztec ruins are said (on 
authority not vouched for) to bear carvings that show 
the early existence of the India type of dancing in Mex- 
ico. There are said to be traces of India influences in 
the dancing of Mexican Indians of to-day. But the in- 
terest of such fact — even if it is a fact — is more closely 
related to ethnology than choreography; because it is 
pretty certain that any trace of India dancing that may 
exist will be an almost unrecognisable corruption. The 
study of dances on grounds of oddity, ethnological curi- 
osity or legendary association leads away from the 
study of dancing for its own sake, and that of its in- 
herent beauty. It is in the endeavour to keep within 
the lines of reasonably pure choreography that this 
book has been restrained from digressions into the 
quasi-dancing of American Indians, African negroes, 
various South Sea Islanders and many other interest- 
ing folk. 

Dancing has an immense importance in religious 
worship of most of the many denominations of India. 
Priestesses are trained to it; corps de ballet into which 
they are organised are maintained in the temples under 
a system like that of ancient Egypt. Their rites are un- 
known — or practically so — to those outside of their own 
faith. In other cults the rites are performed, in part, 
by laymen. The latter ceremonies include a not-to-be- 
described orgy periodically celebrated in certain Hindu 
temples, by women, with the motives of propitiating 
Vishnu. 

China has a school of rhythmic pantomime, the move- 
ment of which hardly justifies its consideration as a 
branch of real dancing — so far as known to the authors. 
An annual religious spectacle is to be noted: in it are 



ORIENTAL DANCING 225 

employed animals' heads, recalling the Snake Dance 
of the Hopi Indians. 

Japan, by means of sundry additions to the older 
Chinese school of mimetic posturing, has converted it 
into an organism to which the name of dancing is quite 
appropriate, and which constitutes by far the greater 
portion of her national choreography. 

It appears that the dances of occasional merry- 
makers, priestesses, and the much-misunderstood 
Geishas have a common characteristic of slow, even 
movement, small steps, and a highly abstract pantomime. 
Of a style distinct from these are certain dances of men, 
including a stirring dance of warriors; in which group 
is seen vigourous action, a good proportion of open 
movement, and genuine steps. The accepted classifica- 
tion of the Japanese, as No, or sacred dancing, and pro- 
fane, doubtless has its merits ; but the division previously 
indicated, distinguishing between dances of posture and 
those of movement, which is the one established by the 
eye, is at least convenient. 

With choral posture and gesture the Japanese cele- 
brate auspicious conditions of nature or happy events 
in the family. The coming of spring; the cherry blos- 
soms ; the season of fishing with cormorants ; flowers in 
general; rice-harvest — in honour of a thousand occur- 
rences may be imagined groups of gaily coloured ki- 
monos enveloping little figures, softly and rhythmically 
swaying over the green, from each kimono protruding 
a fan or a bouquet held in a cloth-enshrouded hand. In 
the tea-house the Geisha (who is a skilled professional 
entertainer, no more and no less) pantomimes, in deH- 
cate symbol, the falling of the petals of flowers, the hear- 
ing of distant music — any motive is suitable, apparently, 



226 THE DANCE 

so long as it is pretty, dainty, fanciful. Movement con- 
forms to the same manner of thinking; much of it 
barely disturbs the silken folds of the kimono. A thou- 
sand meanings are hidden in little turns and twists of 
the fan; but, when explained, the connection of act and 
meaning is often so tenuous that it seems less mysteri- 
ous, or suggestive, than merely vague. Nevertheless, 
taking it on its own premise as a demonstration of Japa- 
nese-doll prettiness, which is not concerned with any but 
the lightest emotions, this type of dancing is pleasing. 
Its virtue is its gossamer frailty. 

The dances of war fall into a distinct class. Some of 
the drawings of Hokkai represent them: combats be- 
tween swordsmen, or between a swordsman and a spear- 
man. The dances themselves are charged with a vig- 
ourous spirit and executed with big, noble movement of 
flourished weapons. The poses follow the indefinable 
angularity which, through the very consistency of its 
use, is an agreeable element in the more virile school of 
Japanese drawing ; and the spicy effect of sharpness so 
produced combines to admiration with the crab-like de- 
sign of old Japanese armour. 

Other men's dances, equally vigourous, are recorded 
in drawings. But any exact study of these or any 
other dances of Japan is almost hopelessly handicapped 
by a scarcity of individuals who possess the desirable 
combination of definite knowledge and personal relia- 
bility. 

The Japanese theatrical dancing, so called, leads into 
a labyrinth of pantomime both subtle and involved, and 
movement so slight that a troop of dancers can continue 
in action four consecutive hours, without relays. That 
is almost too much for real dancing, under existing hu- 




"Nautch Dance" 
Miss Ruth St. Denis 



To face page 226 




Japanese Dance 
Miss Ruth St. Denis 



To face page 227 



ORIENTAL DANCING 227 

man limitations of heart and muscle. The ballet dancer 
is entitled to a rest after a solo of four minutes; to the 
ballet, therefore, it would be well to return, for the cer- 
tainty that the discussion is safe again on the solid 
ground of reality. 



CHAPTER X 

THE BALLET IN ITS DARK AGE 

WHEN a plant has passed a climax of luxuriant 
blossoming, a heedless owner is likely to leave 
it to the mercies of weather and worms, while 
he turns his interest to other plants whose season of 
bloom is just beginning. 

Taglioni and Ellsler faded about the middle of the 
nineteenth century. Cerito, Grahn and Grisi were, at 
best, unable to surpass them. Jenny Lind set people 
talking about singers, and spending their time listening 
to songs. Dancers, desperately straining to recatch 
the lost interest, multiplied entrechats and pirouettes, 
jumped higher and more bravely than ever. Strain- 
ing for technical feats, they forgot motive; the public 
called the ballet meaningless, its work a stupid form of 
acrobatics, its smile a grimace. A genius could have 
made such words seem the words of fools; in the de- 
fault of a genius, the words were accepted as of more 
or less true judgment. 

The years that followed produced a certain amount 
of dancing that was good, notably some of the operatic 
ballets of Europe, and a few ballet spectacles of the 
seventies and eighties; more that could not exactly be 
called bad; and, lastly and principally, a series of mon- 
strosities that were nearly infinite in both number and 
ugliness. 

In trying to find something that would suit the new 

228 



BALLET IN ITS DARK AGE 229 

and unsettled state of the public taste, managers ap- 
parently tried any concoction that could be devised 
by stage, paint-bridge, property room or box-office. 
Montmartre dance-halls evolved the Can-can; half of 
Paris caught its fever; England, and thence America, 
were engulfed in the lingerie of high kickers. Not 
dancers, just high kickers. 

"One, two, three, kick!" was their vocabulary — 
or is, for they are not all dead yet. 

In England several managers at various times of- 
fered good productions, with casts of capable artists. 
Of such productions the most fortunate made small 
profits; the majority lost whatever money was put into 
them. Managers said the public did not want good 
work — a deduction apparently justifiable. They devised 
the elaborate scenic production — Aladdin's-cave sort 
of thing, with millions of jewels the size of roc's eggs, 
delirious with yards and furlongs of red, yellow and 
green foil-paper, acres of chrome-yellow, and "magic 
transformation scenes" ; with one hundred people on the 
stage, one hundred, obviously making two hundred legs, 
every one of which was considered thrilling and dan- 
gerous in those days. Of all those legs displayed in 
all their amplitude, usually not one pair could dance a 
step ; but they did not need to dance. 

That was the form of art called the extravaganza. 
It was a naughty thing to patronise. Its inanities, with- 
out its "stupendous" cost of production, survive in the 
present-day burlesque. 

In the morbid conditions of Montmartre there came 
into favour a species of acrobats whose aim was to pro- 
duce the illusion that their legs and spines were out of 
joint, if not broken. Although of an ugliness demo- 



230 THE DANCE 

mac, their work was called dancing. ''Wiry Sal'' in 
England and ''Ruth the Twister" in America were the 
illuminating pseudonyms associated with the specialty. 
Perhaps a specimen of the kind might still be unearthed 
in a dime museum. 

Enter Lottie Collins, she of "ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay." 
To high kicking and contortion, and the Skirt Dance 
vogue of the moment, she added action so violent that 
it seemed a menace to life itself. The combination of 
attractions was irresistible; Europe and America made 
her rich. Her master-stroke was bending back until her 
body was horizontal, and violently straightening up to 
emphasise the "boom" of her song. For no less than 
a dancer she was a singer! The two talents were em- 
ployed together. And hordes of little plagiarists of 
her act, as of every other "hit," brought delight to the 
many and despair to the few. 

Lottie Collinsism left no territory to be explored in 
its direction. So an eager world turned to the inanity 
of sweetness. 

The dear little girl had been discovered. Evil among 
days ! Preferably she was dimpled. She wore a blond 
wig with curls falling artlessly over her shoulders. Her 
eyebrows were painted in a smoothly curved arch ex- 
tending around on to the sides of her face, and her 
eyes were shaded with the luxuriant lashes begot of 
heavy "beading"; they, too, were carried out an indefi- 
nite distance to the sides. She dressed as a child of 
twelve, with a sash that conveyed the idea of being 
dressed for Sunday-school; imagination always sup- 
plied a cent gripped in her fist. She wore "cunning" 
little low-heeled shoes, with straps. It was not amiss 
that she have some sort of sunbonnet, of lace, slipped 



BALLET IN ITS DARK AGE 231 

carelessly off her flaxen head and hanging down her 
back. Rouge, with a bloom of rice powder, gave her 
a perfect peaches-and-cream complexion. Grease paint 
widened and shortened her lips, curved them into 
an infantile cupid's bow. And from that cupid's bow 
emerged, in piercing calliope tones, inflectionless recit- 
als of her devotion to her dear old mother. At the end 
of each stanza she had a little dance — usually a slow 
polka-step, one, two, three and kick! (An irreproach- 
ably discreet little kick, to the side.) Repeat four 
times each side, and on to the next stanza — which in- 
stead of ''mother" and "other,'' will avail itself of the 
felicitous rhyme of "roam" and "home," or "heart" 
and "part." 

Lest the enumeration of the foregoing horrors should 
be criticised as out of place in a discussion of dancing, 
be it recorded at this point that the said horrors went 
under the name of dancing within easy remembrance 
of people now living, that there are still people living 
who call them dancing, and — for artistic sins of the 
world as yet unexpiated — they still influence the dan- 
cing situation in these United States. 

The Black Crook is a name that stands for superla- 
tives. It was the most lavish spectacle America ever 
had seen. It made such a "hit" as rarely has been 
duplicated since. Its dancing features, which were of 
the first order, made more of an impression than had 
any dancing in this country since Ellsler's tour, in 1840, 
'41 and '42. Its origin was in part due to the some- 
times favourable factor of accident. 

"In consequence of the destruction by fire of the 
Academy of Music, this city," writes J. Allston Brown 
in his History of the New York Stage, "Jarrett and 



232 THE DANCE 

Palmer, who were to have produced La Biche au Bois 
there, had on their hands a number of artists brought 
from Europe. They made an arrangement with Wil- 
Ham Wheatley to utilise the ballet troupe, the chief 
scenic effects, of which they had models, and the trans- 
formation scene." From those beginnings grew The 
Black Crook, With Marie Bonfanti, Rita Sangalli, 
Betty Rigl and Rose Delval as principal dancers, it 
opened at Niblo's Garden in September, 1866. The 
run closed in January, 1868, after 475 performances. 
A return to Niblo's in December, 1870, yielded 122 per- 
formances. December of the following year added 57 
to the score. A revival in August, 1872, brought into 
the company the Kiralfy family, dancers, among whom 
were the brothers destined to fame as managers and 
producers. This 1872 revival ran twelve weeks. In 
1874, Kiralfy Brothers appear as lessees of the Grand 
Opera House. They initiated their term with The 
Black Crook, with Bonfanti as premiere. 

Of American appreciation of good dancing panto- 
mime, during that period, at least, there is no question. 
It must be borne in mind that the New York perform- 
ances above mentioned represent only a fraction of the 
production's total business. The tours that largely 
occupied the intervals met the same success. The box- 
office measure of public enthusiasm is incomplete, more- 
over, without mention of Hiimpty Dumpty, also a spec- 
tacular pantomime with good dancing. Of its first run 
(in New York, and largely coinciding with the first 
run of The Black Crook in point of time) the gross re- 
ceipts were $1,406,000. It was commensurately profit- 
able as a "road'' attraction. Pertinent to the quality of 
its dancing, we have a few words of its manager, Clif- 



BALLET IN ITS DARK AGE 233 

ton W. Tayleure, as quoted by Brown: ". . . princi- 
pal dancers were not easily to be found. A quarrel 
between Vestvalli and Sangalli enabled me to secure the 
latter. Betty and Emily Rigl, who had previously se- 
ceded from Niblo's, were also secured." 

Notwithstanding desertions, The Black Crook main- 
tained its high standards. Its ballet has never since 
been equalled in America, according to Mme. Bonfanti, 
in the classic style of work. 

For its managers, at least, dancing had earned for- 
tunes. To the Kiralfys it was evident, too, that the 
kind of dancing America wanted was good dancing. 
To produce their Excelsior in 1882 they brought from 
Paris Sr. Ettore Coppini, now ballet-master of the 
Metropolitan Opera; and George Saracco, now ballet- 
master of the Brussels Opera, as a leading dancer. 
Nor did Jarrett and Palmer modify their faith in qual- 
ity. Their White Fawn, with an excellent ballet, was 
little less successful than The Black Crook, 

The fame of such works is food for parasites; crea- 
tures incapable of discerning the quality of successful 
works, and upon whom the goodness of the success- 
ful dancing had made no impression. Black Crook and 
White Fawn companies overran the country like a flood 
of counterfeit money — one part fine, ninety-nine parts 
base. Plausible advertising protected the deception, but 
only for a time. It was not long before lovers of good 
dancing began to realise that they were being defrauded. 

In a similar contingency, the supporting public of a 
baseball club loses no time in applying to that club's 
manager whatever pressure may be necessary as a 
means to correcting shortcomings, as far as within him 
lies. The source of their ability to do this is twofold: 



234 THE DANCE 

they can analyse the game, and they have a vocabulary 
in which to express themselves. Baseball had not so 
many enthusiasts in those days as dancing had. But 
the appreciators of dancing lacked analytical knowledge 
of the art, and the language in which to discuss it. 
Promoters of counterfeits were not taken to task, there- 
fore, as would have been to their own good. Instead, 
the names of Black Crook, White Fawn, dancing and 
pantomime became synonyms for theatrical imposition, 
and America laid aside interest in them and all their 
appurtenances. 

Of all the consequences of the above incidents, per- 
haps the most unfortunate was a generally accepted 
managerial deduction that America does not like dan- 
cing after all. Though the Russian ballet has shaken 
that belief, the belief is not dead yet. 

There is a saying that no man is indispensable ; that, 
after his removal, there is always another to take his 
place. The saying is not true. 

Pantomime — not dancing to be sure, but so closely 
related to it that the prosperity of either usually means 
that of both — at one time had the alliance of Augustin 
Daly. He believed in it as a great art, and contem- 
plated increasingly ambitious productions. To those 
closely associated with him he declared himself willing 
to lose money on it for three years, and more if neces- 
sary; he was confident that eventually it would attain 
to great popularity in this country. But after produ- 
cing UEnfant Prodigue and Pygmalion and Galatea, 
death stepped in and took away from the stage one of 
the best influences it ever had, and from dancing a 
possible friendship of the kind it sorely needed. 



BALLET IN ITS DARK AGE 235 

In the eighties there was in Chicago a child who had 
considerable fame as a temperance lecturer. Her name 
was Loie Fuller. She was moved to take dancing les- 
sons; but (according to biographers) gave them up 
after a few lessons, on account of difficulty. After 
a certain amount of voice culture, she qualified as an 
actress with a singing part. During an engagement 
in this capacity she received, from a friend in India, 
a present of a long scarf of extremely thin silk. While 
playing with it, delighting in its power to float in the 
air almost like a vapour, Miss Fuller received the idea 
that was to bring her before the world, the Serpentine 
Dance. The dance was there in its essence, needing 
only arrangement and polish, and surety of keeping a 
great volume of cloth afloat without entanglement. 
Steps were of no consequence, nor quality of movement 
in arms or body. The cloth was the thing, and Miss 
Fuller lost no time on non-essentials. 

The success of the Serpentine was not one of those 
victories gained after long experimenting for a perfect 
expression, patiently educating the public, and years of 
disappointments. It was instantaneous and complete; 
a few weeks sufficed to make Loie Fuller a national 
figure. A period of tremendous popularity followed, 
popularity amounting to a fashion. And still another 
impulse was to come, second only in importance to the 
use of the gauze itself. 

In Paris Miss Fuller had a sketch in which she, a 
solitary figure, stood on a height at dawn, silhouetted 
against the sky. The rising sun was arranged to il- 
luminate, one after another, the prominences in the 
landscape falling away into the distance. The figure, 



236 THE DANCE 

on being touched by the rays, represented its awaken- 
ing by the fluttering, raising and full play of its hun- 
dred yards or so of drapery. 

It happened that an audience mistook the intent of 
the effect, and greeted it as a dance of fire. The up- 
ward rush of the cloth, obviously, had suggested flame. 
''La Loie'' lost not a moment in seeing the possibilities, 
nor an hour in setting to work on their development. 
Stage electric lighting was new ; so new that it acknowl- 
edged no limitations. Electricians were enthusiastic 
over new problems, because new problems were being 
solved by new and sometimes sensational inventions. 
To lighting Miss Fuller turned to make the effect of 
the fire dance unmistakable and startling. With the 
result that the colours and movement of flame were al- 
most counterfeited. Variously coloured glasses lent 
their tints to the rays of spot lights ; set into discs made 
to revolve in front of the lamp, they simulated the up- 
ward rush that helps make flame exciting. As a pre- 
caution against theft of ideas, the essential parts of the 
electric arrangements are said to have been trusted 
exclusively to Miss Fuller's brothers. 

La Danse de Feu, consistently prepared as such, cre- 
ated an enthusiasm in Paris probably equal to the ''hit" 
of the Serpentine in America. Indeed Miss Fuller was 
practically adopted into the French nation, where she 
was affectionately and widely known as "La Lo'ie." 
French is the language in which she wrote her memoirs. 
{Mes Memoires, Loie Fuller.) 

Her work, always startling, never failed of being 
agreeable also. By a loose application of the word it 
was justified in being called dancing. Strictly speak- 
ing it was not, from the point of view of step, movement 



BALLET IN ITS DARK AGE 237 

or posture. Interest in steps the work frankly dis- 
claimed by its own terms ; an easy movement from place 
to place, with reference always to the drapery, was all 
that was undertaken in the department of foot-work. 
The arms were equally subordinated to the drapery; 
their movements, as interpretation or decoration, meant 
nothing. The performer held in each hand a short pole 
as aid to manipulation of the cloth, in which her arms 
were buried most of the time. They committed no 
awkwardness, nor did they contribute to the effect ex- 
cept as they furnished motive power. As to the drap- 
ery, any idea of making it a vehicle of controlled lines 
would obviously have been out of the question. Colour 
without form was the result ; and form, when all is said 
and done, is the essence not only of dancing, but of any 
art that would attempt to convey a message to the senses 
as well as pleasure to the eye. 

Imitators affected Miss Fuller very little. So closely 
were her means guarded — it is said that no one of her 
designers and sewing-women knew more than a part 
of the construction of her draperies — that attempts to 
reproduce her work were generally laborious compro- 
mises with failure. But the musical comedy stage un- 
derwent an inundation of illuminated dry-goods. With 
the mechanical problem simplified by the distribution 
of the hundred yards of drapery among forty people, 
there followed a sea of cavorting rainbows and prisms 
that lacked even a semi-careful selection of colours. 

The World's Fair in Chicago brought to America a 
variety of dancers, most of them good. The novelty 
element was the work of the Orient. The Oriental 
point of view differs from that of England and Amer- 
ica; it accepts as natural the existence of sex. In all 



238 THE DANCE 

its expressions, whether Hterary, sculptural, pictorial, 
or choreographic, the subject of sex is neither avoided 
nor emphasised. It takes its place among the actua- 
ting dramatic motives exactly as it has done in the ex- 
pressions of all civilisations of all times, except those 
of our Anglo-Saxon civilisation since about 1620, in 
which it is evaded, and of certain decadent civilisations, 
where it is an obsession. 

The World's Fair crowd was so amazed by the Ori- 
ental disregard of Puritan tradition that it could see 
nothing in dances of India and North Africa except 
obscenity. Instead of trying to acquaint the public with 
the wealth of poetic symbolism of the dances, and their 
unlimited scope of meaning, every manager on the Mid- 
way at once adopted the motto of the majority of his 
profession: "Give the public what it wants.'' That at 
least is the inference from conditions. Before the fair 
was a month old there was hardly an Oriental dancing 
attraction on the grounds that did not claim, in the 
sly-dog^ language of naughty suggestion, to surpass all 
competitors in lewdness. And it verily seemed as 
though most of them were justified in their claims. 

They all made money. And they created against 
Oriental dancing a prejudice just beginning to melt 
now at the end of twenty years ; the majority of the pub- 
lic is still convinced that no Oriental dancing is any- 
thing but a pretext for offensiveness. For any physical 
quality truly is offensive the moment it is unduly in- 
sisted upon. And with few exceptions the managers 
of the unhappy Arabs dancing in this country have in- 
spired their charges to exaggerate one quality to the 
almost complete exclusion of every other one. 

The ghastly reaction of such a state of affairs is on 



BALLET IN ITS DARK AGE 239 

dancing in general. In this present year, 191 3, one of 
the most prominent and successful managers in Amer- 
ica said: "There are two ways to succeed with dan- 
cers. If they have a sensational acrobatic novelty that 
never has been seen before, that will make money. 
Otherwise youVe got to take their clothes off, if you 
want anybody to look at 'em. Duncan? St. Denis? 
What does the American public care about art? They 
have succeeded because they took their clothes off.'' 

It sounds unreal, it is so demonstrably silly. But it 
was what that manager said. In his profession there 
are several who hold contrary beliefs; but the one 
quoted is of the opinion common among the present 
custodians of the dancing art in America. In their 
offices is determined what character of dancing shall 
occupy the stage ; to their beliefs the lover of good dan- 
cing must give heed. 

Any refutation of the above cynicism as affecting 
Miss Duncan and Miss St. Denis is superfluous. Their 
work has at all times been charged with a big, roman- 
tic or mystic meaning. Imitators, basing their activi- 
ties on the manager's creed above quoted, have furnished 
an illuminating experiment to determine exactly what 
interest the public finds in the work of the two artists 
named. Invariable failure has accompanied their ap- 
proximate nudity, despite the fact that many of them 
are pretty in face and figure. 

Great dancers have come, been seen, but — until the 
coming of the Russians — have achieved few victories 
of lasting value. Genee is an exception; to delight in 
her work is to be added a real influence in favour of 
real art. Carmencita, Otero and Rosario Guerrero, 
all great artists of expression conveyed through the 



240 THE DANCE 

medium of the dances of Spain, have had good seasons 
in this country. Even though their influence on taste 
did not seem far-reaching, it must be beHeved that they 
helped prepare the way for great things that were to 
come. 

But the real force of the coming change, the change 
that was to take its place among the important revolu- 
tions in the history of all art was quietly preparing itself 
in an American village. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE ROMANTIC REVOLUTION 

THERE are few people who are complete in any 
one direction. The statesman hesitates at a 
measure that will wreck his political organisa- 
tion, unless he is a complete statesman. The yachts- 
man will lose a race to pick up a man overboard, unless 
he is an unscrupulous or complete racing fiend. A cor- 
poration manager who disregards every consideration 
except his end may be a law-breaker, but before that 
he is a complete business man. Cromwell and Luther 
were complete reformers. Most people in the arts are 
incomplete artists, because they hesitate to depart from 
accepted means of expression. They cripple impulse 
with logic, and accommodate their course more or less 
to other people's opinions. Noverre was a complete 
stage director. Isadora Duncan is a complete disciple 
of beauty. 

Beauty in all its natural manifestations is her reli- 
gion. Waves and clouds and running water, the nude 
body and its natural movements are the tokens by which 
it is revealed to her. Its high priests, by her creed, 
were the Greeks of old. And, conversely, all other 
priests are false. In the soul afire with a cause there 
is no room for adjustment of points of view; such ad- 
justments bear the form of compromise. That which 
is not right is wrong — not even partly right, but hope- 
lessly, damnably wrong. A state of mind exactly as 

241 



242 THE DANCE 

it should be in a person with an idea, and exactly as it 
must be if he is going to carry the idea to fruition. 

Miss Duncan is not in attunement with the ballet, 
and never was. She is a worshipper of nature; not as 
translated into abstract terms, but as nature is, as re- 
vealed in the waves and clouds and running water. If 
she were a leader in a logical controversy instead of one 
of taste, it would be in order to question how she tol- 
erates modern music, instead of insisting on a reversion 
to the music of the winds in the trees ; for certainly the 
piano is no less a man-made convention than the dan- 
cer's position sur la pointe, and orchestration is far from 
the sounds of nature. But the controversy is not an 
affair of logic, and it follows that any question prompted 
by logical considerations becomes illogical, automat- 
ically. The point at issue is that Miss Duncan, com- 
plete disciple of beauty, is a complete opponent of 
beauty expressed otherwise than in the way revealed 
to her. Again, lest this analysis bear any resemblance 
to criticism, let it be affirmed that her attitude is exactly 
as it should be in relation to her destiny. 

At an early age she was fascinated by the representa- 
tions of dancing to be found on Greek ceramics, and in 
Tanagra and other figures. A work of art means 
many things to many people. What Miss Duncan saw 
in the early representations was a direct and perfect ex- 
pression of nature. Among other elements, she noted 
in them a full acknowledgment of the law of gravity, 
which is an obviously natural quality. Now, Miss Dun- 
can's essay The Dance shows in her mind not the first 
stirrings of a question as to whether gravity may not be 
an unfortunate mortal limitation. On the contrary, it 
is natural, therefore right. Therefore the ballet, in 




Isadora Duncan 



To face page 242 




Photograph by Claude Harris 



Greek Interpretative Dance 
Mme. Pavlowa 



To face page 243 



THE ROMANTIC REVOLUTION 243 

denying gravity, is wrong. The Greeks usually danced 
without shoes; bare went the feet of Miss Duncan. 

Let it not be supposed that her ideal contemplated 
an imitation of natural actions, or had any relation to 
realism. Natural qualities, not actions, she proposed 
to interpret, not imitate, by means of natural move- 
ments. That is at least the inference pointed by the 
essay referred to, confirmed by her work. ^'Natural 
movements" would be defined, if the same process of 
inference may be followed, as movements whose execu- 
tion are possible by a normal body without special train- 
ing. From this it does not follow that uncultivated 
movements would be acceptable by the terms of the 
proposition. To raise an arm is a natural movement, 
hence acceptable to this code. To learn to raise it 
gracefully, a Duncanite would need to put in just as 
much time and thought as a ballet student, standards 
of grace being equal. It does, however, follow that 
any gravity-defying step would be unacceptable by the 
terms of the proposition. Without special training it 
cannot be executed, badly, or at all; which, from the 
Duncan point of view, would throw it into the class of 
unnatural movements. 

To fix the meaning of the idea of interpreting nat- 
ural qualities, nothing better can be done than to quote 
a paragraph of Miss Duncan's own words: 'These 
flowers before me contain the dream of a dance; it 
could be named: 'The light falling on white flowers.' 
A dance that would be a subtle translation of the light 
and the whiteness — so pure, so strong, that people 
would say, Tt is a soul we see moving, a soul that has 
reached the light and found the whiteness. We are 
glad it should move so.' Through its human medium 



244 THE DANCE 

we have a satisfying sense of the movement of Hght 
and glad things. Through this human medium, the 
movement of all nature runs also through us, is trans- 
mitted to us from the dancer. We feel the movement 
of light intermingled with the thought of whiteness. 
It is a prayer, this dance, each movement reaches in 
long undulations to the heavens and becomes a part of 
the eternal rhythm of the spheres." 

Fifteen years ago a creed of interpreting qualities 
in the manner above indicated, by means of dancing, 
was quite as alien to the United States as was the 
Greek costume that left the legs uncovered and the feet 
unshod. The costume probably was as surprising on 
the stage then as it would be in a ballroom now. And 
right there comes in the complete artist. Miss Dun- 
can knew she w^as right, and she went ahead. Perhaps 
she anticipated the snickers with which a new idea is 
usually greeted; more likely she was sublimely heed- 
less of immediate effects. 

It was in 1899, or thereabout, that she gave a recital 
in the little theatre of a dramatic school in Chicago, 
before an audience principally of dramatic students, 




Impressions of Isadora Duncan. 



THE ROMANTIC REVOLUTION 245 

painters and sculptors. After the performance, which 
took place in the morning, the painters and sculptors 
unconsciously grouped themselves into informal com- 
mittees to exchange verdicts. The general conclusion 
— arrived at after hours of acrimonious argument, in 
most cases — was that the young woman had an idea, 
but that clairvoyancy was required to understand it. 
At that time, it should be added. Miss Duncan was far 
from mature in grace, surety or any other of the tech- 
nical qualities; and her art, na'ive though it be, has 
its technical requirements just as surely as any other 
art. 

It is now necessary to transfer attention to certain 
people whose path and Miss Duncan's were beginning 
to converge. 

In Russia the ballet is as definitely a ward of the 
government as the army is. No more carefully are can- 
didates for a national military academy selected than 
are applicants for admission to the Imperial Ballet 
Academy. 

Those admitted are cared for as though each were 
an heir to the throne, given an all-round art education 
that could not be duplicated anywhere else in the world, 
and rigourously drilled in dancing six days a week for 
seven or eight years. As they qualify for it, they ap- 
pear on occasion in the corps de ballet of the Imperial 
Opera, dear to the hearts of nobility and a theatre- 
going public. By the terms of agreement with the gov- 
ernment, they are assured employment at specified pay 
for a specified number of years in the ballet, after which 
they retire on a pension. The pay is not high, but with 
it is an assured career and an honourable one, and a 
likelihood of considerable emolument through instruc- 



246 THE DANCE 

tion, imperial gifts and government favours. Withal 
a thing not lightly to be thrown away. 

Like their contemporaries in Paris and Vienna, the 
people of St. Petersburg and Moscow (homes of the two 
Imperial Opera Houses and of the two arms of the 
Academy) were dissatisfied with their ballet. Beyond 
the vague charge of lack of interest they could not 
analyse their complaint. They were puzzled. Train- 
ing more careful than that given in their Academy could 
not be. Nor was any school of the dance superior to 
the composite French-Italian on which the Russian bal- 
let was based. Each detailed objection was answered; 
yet a decided majority agreed that something was 
wrong. 

Miss Duncan, rightly believing that Europe was 
more attentive than America to a new idea, had left her 
native land after a period of neither success nor failure 
in any pronounced degree. She had interested Paris, 
startled Berlin, and set Vienna into a turmoil of wran- 
gling. St. Petersburg waited, with interest aroused 
by echoes from Vienna. 

Before the end of the St. Petersburg performance, 
M. Mikail Fokine, a director in the Academy, had not 
only declared Miss Duncan a goddess, as he had a per- 
fect right to; he, with others, had invited her to give a 
special performance in the Academy, and that was 
against the rules. 

The special performance was given; the Romantic 
Rebellion dates from that hour. In no time at all the se- 
cessionists were a body including some of the ablest 
of both masters and pupils. 

With Miss Duncan's technical limitations or virtu- 
osity they were not concerned. What she brought 



\ 




Mlle. Lopoukowa Mlle. Nijinska 

Mlle. Pavlowa 

With the famous instructor, Sr. E. Ceccetti. From an amateur photograph taken 
in their student period 



To face page 246 




Mlle. Lydia Kyasht and M. Lytazkin 
"Harlequin and Blue-bird" 



To face page 247 



THE ROMANTIC REVOLUTION 247 

them was the vision of the ballet now known to the 
world as Russian. To lost pensions and the certain 
displeasure of a firm-handed government they gave no 
heed. They were complete idealists, bent on a big pur- 
pose. Of the stories of that secession that we have 
had from various participants, not one shows the faint- 
est reflection that any of the band thought of the possi- 
ble sacrifice of his career. They were not estimating 
material prospects. They simply saw the vision of 
something that looked better to them than the art they 
had known; into the path indicated by that vision they 
turned without vacillation, and without emotion save 
enthusiasm. 

With the fact that they were the advance guard of 
a movement that was about to assume a significance 
equal to that of the Barbizon School in painting and of 
Victor Hugo in literature, these Russians — boys and 
girls in age, most of them — were as supremely uncon- 
cerned as were Adam and Eve with the destiny of the 
race of which they were founders. To a group of in- 
complete artists the epic romance of the thing would 
have appealed, and there would have resulted columns 
and reams of print to tell about the inspiration, and all 
the rest of it. In the consciousness of these Russians 
— ^and make no mistake, most of them are alert, intel- 
lectually vigourous people — there was no concern about 
their own value as figures in a romance. They were 
filled with the excitement accompanying the possibility 
of radically improving their work. 

Spontaneously the pieces of the new structure came 
together. To M. Fokine the group looked as head. 
In him they had a choreographer of the highest order, 
with the imagination of an epic poet. Nijinski and 



248 THE DANCE 

Bolm were prominent men of the group; heading the 
list of women were Miles. Pavlowa, Lopoukowa, and 
Karsavina. As a matter of exact history, Mr. Joseph 
Mandelkern points out to us that the enlistment of 
Mordkin, Volinine and other important recruits oc- 
curred somewhat later; being in the Moscow arm of 
the school, their first receipt of the romantic impulse 
was connected with Miss Duncan's appearance in Mos- 
cow, which occurred after the St. Petersburg engage- 
ment. The secession at Moscow was largely a repeti- 
tion of the occurrences at St. Petersburg. 

The new cause gained, without delay, the alliance 
of the musical composers, Glazounov, Rimski-Korsakov. 
Tcherepnin, and others of stature little less. 

Among the forces most important in contribution 
to the new-born art, moreover, was Leon Bakst, the 
decorator. M. Bakst, for a number of years, had en- 
joyed a high and steadily improving position in his 
craft; he had been variously honoured^ he had exe- 
cuted responsible commissions to the satisfaction of 
every one — with the possible exception of himself. In 
a comparatively recent interview he is quoted as saying 
— in effect — that he believed that the function of a 
painter was to express emotion rather than to record 
fact. Taking as an instance an architectural sketch 
before him, he said that if a change of certain classic 
architectural proportions would add impressiveness, he 
would not hesitate to make the necessary changes. In 
other words, he regarded fact as material and not as 
an object to be recorded for its own sake. So it may 
be inferred that his success in rather conservative 
decoration, notwithstanding that it did not lack the 
note of individuality, was not satisfying to him. 




Photograph by Schnieder, Berlin 

MlLE. PaVLOWA IN" AN '"' AraBESQUE " 



To face page 148 




M. MiKAIL MORDKIN IN AN "ArROW DaNCE' 



To face page 249 



THE ROMANTIC REVOLUTION 249 

For material for new compositions in which the new 
creed could be exploited, ballet-master, musician and 
painter turned unanimously to the legendary lore of 
Russia and Persia, the intervening land of the Cau- 
casus, and the near-by realm of Egypt. Strange new 
plots they found; plots of savagery, passion, and mys- 
tery. While dancers translated lofty motives into 
choral and solo steps, musicians worked with mad zeal 
to render them into tone and tempo. New music was 
composed, old was seized with avid hand and pounded 
into its appointed place in the new romantic structure. 
Bakst — and other painters allied with him— revelled, 
now in a deep and ominous palette that should spell 
mystery, again in ardent and seemingly impossible har- 
monies that sang wild opulence. 

In short, the secessionists had attained to a point that 
marked nothing less, and something more, than a re- 
creation of the mimetic drama of the best days of 
Athens. They had achieved that at which the early 
patrons of opera had consciously but unsuccessfully 
aimed. The Russian achievement is not to be measured 
except by a glance back into history. 

In the great spaces of the Greek outdoor theatres, 
actors found their voices inadequate. In consequence, 
we must accept as essentially true the belief that dra- 
matic representation underwent a more or less definite 
division into two forms. One body, complying with the 
world-old demand for explanatory statement to accom- 
pany dramatic action, adopted a device to magnify the 
voice; that device was a small megaphone, concealed by 
means of a mask. To the unimaginative audience, the 
resulting falsification of the voice was not objectionable. 
That species of audience, to this day, is deaf and blind 



250 THE DANCE 

to the message of quality or to delight in it. Its interest 
centres on narrative and it welcomes diagrammatic aid 
to its understanding of that narrative. The mask, 
therefore, was rather satisfying than otherwise to the 
patrons of the drama that it typified. In labelling char- 
acter, it was a boon to the intellectually toothless; to 
whom, moreover, its immobility of expression would not 
be offensive. That the spoken drama was the popular 
form, the mimo-drama the aristocrat, seems an unavoid- 
able inference. 

To artists and audience versed in the language of 
symbol, as opposed to imitation; of suggestion, as op- 
posed to diagram ; of abstraction, as opposed to material 
fact — to such performers and connoisseurs the vastness 
of stage and auditorium presented no inconvenience 
whatever. To both performer and auditor, the elo- 
quence of pose, step and gesture was sufficient. Indeed, 
we may suppose that they regarded the spoken word as 
limiting, rather than amplifying, the meaning of the 
action it accompanied. The high-heeled cothurnus the 
pantomimist avoided, for the sake of perfect freedom 
of foot. To him was open the full resource of facial 
expression, posture and dance. All of these means, in 
whole or in part, were denied the wearer of mask and 
cothurnus. 

Rome, consistent with its own level of artistic men- 
tality, chose the less imaginative of the Greek forms. 
It follows that Greek popular drama is identical with 
the so-called classic Roman drama. 

When the originators of opera set themselves, in the 
seventeenth century, to the task of re-creating a classic 
form, it is a matter of record that they turned to Rome 
for their model. 



THE ROMANTIC REVOLUTION 251 

Thus, in availing themselves of advances in the arts 
of music, scenery and costume, both opera and ballet 
have strayed from pure classic tradition. And there is 
no harm in that, per se. But a point to be most strongly 
emphasised is this: that the Russian ballet has re-cre- 
ated, in its essence, the best of classic drama. 

Employment of the full eloquence of step, pose and 
facial expression, without the restriction that the spoken 
word imposes upon meaning — that is the paramount 
distinction of the Russian ballet's dramatic form. 
Hardly second in importance is its independence of elab- 
orate stage mechanism as a means to effects. The first 
opera busied itself with mechanical contrivances to an 
extent that was commented upon — with amusement — 
by writers in its time. How far its originators were 
justified in believing that they had re-created a great 
classic form needs no further comment. That the Rus- 
sians, searching for the great fundamentals of art, de- 
vised a form practically coincidental with that accepted 
by the best intelligence of the best period of Athens, is 
a chapter of dramatic history whose importance is not 
likely to be exaggerated. 

We left the secessionists, on an earlier page, in the 
position of having defied a strong-handed government. 
In this crisis, M. Sergius Diagilew enters the narrative, 
not as an artist, but as one of art's indispensable allies. 
He it was who, some years before, had arranged the ex- 
hibitions that first acquainted western Europe and 
America with modern Russian painting. When the rift 
occurred in the Ballet Academy, M. Diagilew, by virtue 
of experience and sympathies, was the one man to per- 
form certain needed diplomatic services in the interest 
of the rebels. Their situation lacked little of being 



252 THE DANCE 

politically serious.. M. Diagilew performed the felici- 
tous miracle of turning a fault into a virtue. 

To proper government authorities he outlined a plan 
which in itself deserves a place in diplomatic history. 
"Contract-breakers these people are," he admitted, 
"and on a par with deserters from the army. But in- 
stead of punishing them, I have another suggestion. 

"They have created a new and great art. Their 
combined work represents a greater expression than 
any living man has seen, perhaps the finest thing of its 
kind that ever has existed in the world. 

"Europe respects Russia for her force, not for her 
thought. Its common belief is that Russia is a nation 
of savages, because it has seen no purely Russian art 
that it would call great. 

"My proposal is that these people be reinstated in the 
Opera and the Academy, that they be granted a long 
leave of absence, and that I be commissioned to arrange 
for them a season in Paris, as an exhibition of repre- 
sentative Russian art, sanctioned by the Russian gov- 
ernment." 

The capital necessary for a full equipment of cos- 
tumes and scenery was provided by Baron Ginsberg. 
And there followed the first season of le Ballet Russe 
at the Chatelet Theatre, in 1905. Paris, like every 
other progressive city in the world, was surfeited with 
plays that would better have been enclosed between the 
covers of books on law, sociology or medicine. Its bal- 
let, though fighting valiantly against the effect that time 
works on old governments, old religions, old institu- 
tions, had settled into the ways of habit, and could no 
longer fire the mind or the imagination. As to all that 
miscellany of "musical comedies" that, with their con- 




Mlle. Lydia Lopoukowa, M. Mikail Mordkin, in a Bacchanal 



To face page 252 




Mlle. Lydia Lopoukowa 



To face page 25 J 



THE ROMANTIC REVOLUTION 253 

comitant novelties, were wallowing in a gaudy slough 
of despond ten years ago, Parisians had come to regard 
them as a highly improbable means even of amusement, 
leaving edification quite out of account. 

The success of the Russians was assured from the 
first curtain. Here was something that conveyed a 
message of noble beauty, executed with the skill of the 
craftsman possessed of all that education can give, 
fired with enthusiastic genius. Above all, it was a 
thing that released thought from earth-bound conditions 
and, with the persuasion of its multiple beauty, invited 
it to roam the unlimited domain of poetry and magic. 

Full appreciation required time, naturally. Here was 
a creation new in freedom of movement and pantomimic 
vocabulary: dressed in costumes never seen before; 
backed by scenery in colours never dreamed of, with 
a species of line-composition like an alien language; 
and accompanied by music of a type unfamiliar, to many 
individuals unknown. Wagnerian music to the unac- 
customed ear is confusing as well as overpowering. 
The Russian ballet presented its equivalent in three dif- 
ferent forms acting simultaneously. 

The Russian ballet season is now one of the institu- 
tions of the French capital. The Russian government 
annually grants several months' leave of absence to the 
necessary number of artists, and Paris for several 
months crowds their performances. The annual in- 
crease in quantity and depth of thought bestowed upon 
them, as measured in magazine writings, indicates that 
public satisfaction with the organisation and its work 
has not yet found its limits. 

The seasons of 1909-10 and 1910-11 found a small but 
admirable Russian ballet in the Metropolitan Opera of 



254 THE DANCE 

New York. Pavlowa, Lopoukowa, Mordkin, Volinine 
and Geltzer were of the number. They presented 
many divertissements in opera performances as well 
as a number of ballet pantomimes. As to their im- 
pression on the public, it is most briefly to be ex- 
pressed by calling attention to the fact that the dancing 
enthusiasm now strongly rooted in America dates di- 
rectly back to these Russian ballet seasons in the Metro- 
politan Opera. Naturally, the public's lack of knowl- 
edge of the language of pantomime and choreography 
stood in the way of such an immediate *'hit'' as the same 
company had made in Paris. But in spite of incom- 
plete understanding. New York was charmed from the 
first, and appreciation grew rapidly through the two sea- 
sons. 

The contract was not renewed, nor has the Metro- 
politan Opera undertaken anything great in choreogra- 
phy since that time, in which it is probably right. Not- 
withstanding the popularity of the Russians, they did 
not increase box-oflice receipts commensurately with the 
heavy cost of salaries, transportation and incidental ex- 
penses. 

It is natural, when service is needed, to turn to those 
whose fitness for such service has been proven. But 
the opera company, by its service to music, has earned 
exemption from added responsibilities to art. Since its 
organisation, the stockholders' dividends have had the 
form of deficit statements every year until two years ago. 
Every year the stockholders wrote their checks to ag- 
gregate a quarter of a million dollars or more that opera 
cost in excess of its receipts. The past two years have 
turned the balance into the other column. If they chose 
to, the same set of gentlemen could, in a few years, put 



THE ROMANTIC REVOLUTION 255 

the ballet-drama on the same footing; but the sacrifice 
of money and effort is more than the public has a right 
to ask. Against appalling odds, the Metropolitan took 
up the cause of popularising opera. That the task 
proves other than a labour of love is due neither to 
skimping nor to lowering of standards, but to quite the 
contrary policy. The undertaking has succeeded ; those 
connected with it are entitled to a period of enjoyment 
of their rewards. The American Academy of Dancing, 
when it is organised, is not morally their responsibility. 
For its own good, moreover, it had best be an independ- 
ent organisation, with music definitely relegated to the 
secondary importance. As an auxiliary to music, the 
dance has not progressed as it should; only as the sole 
occupant of one of the pedestals to which the great arts 
are entitled will it receive the attentive care that it de- 
serves and needs. But this is anticipation of the matter 
of another chapter. 

Since the Metropolitan engagement, Russian ballets 
have seldom been seen in America except under misrep- 
resentative conditions. Not through intentions to mis- 
represent, but through tactical errors easily understood 
in the light of subsequent knowledge, they have been too 
often advertised in such terms as to prepare their audi- 
ences for sensationalism rather than art. 

A company including some of the best dancers that 
Russia has produced was headed by a vaudeville per- 
former whose prominence proceeded from genius in imi- 
tations, and whose choreographic aspirations were based 
on two years (the programme confessed the period) of 
ballet study. It was believed that her name would be of 
service to the box-oflfice; it was demonstrated that, by 
the standards of the supporting company, she was not 



256 THE DANCE 

a dancer. So she did not dance. Obviously, the func- 
tion of subordinates is to be subordinate; so, perforce, 
they did not dance, either. People who came expecting 
to see great things inevitably felt that the Russian ballet 
was, to say the least, an overrated institution. A con- 
sequence even more unfortunate is that many managers 
draw, from this hapless alliance and its consequences, 
the deduction that Americans do not like high-class 
dancing. 




Mme. Pavlowa in a Bacchanal 



To face page 257 



CHAPTER XII 

THE RUSSIAN ACADEMY AND ITS WORKINGS 

A STUDENT in the Russian Academy does not 
risk discovering, after some years of study, that 
he cannot stand the physical training, nor does 
he learn, when it is too late to turn back, that his road 
to high places is blocked by defect of health, structure, 
or proportion. As a candidate for admission he under- 
goes an examination by a board of physicians, painters 
and sculptors. If he enters, it is after their approval, 
the examiners measuring the candidate by the standards 
of their respective arts. He knows, and his parents 
know, that he is starting, free from handicap, on the 
road to an at least respectable position in a respectable 
profession, with which he will be associated and by which 
he will be supported through life. His studies will be 
guided by the best instruction that can be secured; if 
he has genius it will receive the most favourable of cul- 
tivation. At all times his life will be surrounded by 
conditions as favourable to physical health as they can 
be made by science and free expenditure. 

His payment for these advantages is complete renun- 
ciation of every interest apart from those of the Acad- 
emy's curriculum. To one not passionately fond of his 
art, the enforced devotion to work would spell loss of 
liberty. As a matter of fact, however, this does not 
often seem to be felt as a privation. The interests of 
the school are so varied, and the dance is possessed of 

^S7 



258 THE DANCE 

such endless allurement, that life within the academic 
walls is generally felt to be complete in itself. In other 
words, the contract binding the pupil is not usually felt 
as a tether, notwithstanding that its operation covers 
the most restless years in a boy's or girl's life. 

Seven or eight is the age for entrance, and the con- 
tract binds the pupil for nine years of training — which 
may be reduced to eight if proficiency warrants. At the 
expiration of this time the government has all rights to 
the dancer's services, at a moderate salary, varying ac- 
cording to the rank for which he qualifies in the ballet 
organisation. From the graduates of the Academy are 
recruited the ballets of the two Imperial Opera Houses : 
the Marianski Theatre in St. Petersburg, and the Opera 
House in Moscow. In both houses, ballet pantomimes 
are presented twice a week, approximately. 

Graduates with an aptitude for teaching are so 
employed. All of which must cost the government a 
great deal less than would the alternative of hiring corps 
de ballet, premiers and premieres, and ballet-masters 
from Paris and Milan. In fact, until half a century 
ago, foreign talent was depended on, for the important 
work. From its continued use, it may be inferred that 
the present system is the more satisfactory. 

Naturally, a member of the Imperial ballet must have 
government consent to leave his country ; departing with- 
out such consent, he automatically forfeits his pension. 
A few individuals have chosen the high salaries to which 
their work entitles them in other parts of the world, and 
deliberately stayed away at the expiration of a leave of 
absence. To the great majority, however, the pension 
and artistic conditions attaching to their home organisa- 
tion have been the greater inducement. 




a 




Mlle. Lydia Lopoukowa 



To face page 259 



THE RUSSIAN ACADEMY 259 

Between performances and their preparation, and 
teaching, it will be seen that the members of the ballet 
never need pass an unoccupied hour. They are insured 
against such deterioration as might result from lack of 
constant work. On the other hand, they are protected 
against the danger of overwork. Think of the differ- 
ence between such conditions and those created by com- 
petition! Between engagements, the generality of bal- 
let people under the latter conditions study and train, 
if at all, at their own expense; and competent coaching 
costs money. During engagements, the number of su- 
preme efforts of which they are capable each week is 
considered only by those in whom are combined good 
fortune and conscience; others arrange their work to 
economise strength, or else break down. 

Of the curriculum of the school we have been told in 
some detail by Miss Lydia Lopoukowa. During the 
first year, which is a period of probation, pupils are al- 
lowed to visit their parents on Sundays. After that 
they remain in the direct charge of instructors, in the 
school, in the opera-houses, and in carriages going and 
coming; visiting with parents or others is confined to 
stated times, and is done in the school. If this arrange- 
ment seems severe, the answers are to be found in re- 
sults : if any students of any art attain to full artistic de- 
velopment and perfection of artistry in an equal length 
of time without similar concentration, enforced either by 
self or by regulation, then the detachment effected by 
the Russian Academy is carried to an unnecessary de- 
gree. 

The curriculum may, for convenience, be divided into 
two departments, pertaining respectively to technical and 
general education. The latter is the equivalent of the 



26o THE DANCE 

Continental European gymnasium, which carries the stu- 
dent to a point somewhat more advanced than that which 
he reaches in the American pubHc high school. 

On the technical side, the training begins with the 
breadth of a general conservatory's course in the arts. 
As the pupiFs aptitude and tastes begin to crystallise, 
his instruction becomes increasingly specialised. The 
first year's work covers, besides dancing, a beginning in 
music, acting, and a certain amount of drawing. The 
music includes theory and piano. Acting embraces the 
beginnings of pantomime, along with enunciation, ex- 
pression and the rest of it. 

The dancing tuition is based absolutely on the French- 
Italian ballet. The undisputed success of the romantic 
movement, and the prevailing sympathy with its motive, 
have not shaken faith in the classic as a necessary 
framework for the support of expression and adornment. 
An orthodox and unreconstructed Italian ballet-master 
remains in charge of this department; his influence is 
not modified until after the pupil has acquired the equi- 
librium, in short the discipline that is a tradition of the 
classic school alone. Parallel with this training, how- 
ever, is instruction and drill in plastic gymnastics, which 
concerns itself with training the body in grace and ex- 
pression. The separation of the two courses naturally 
enables the pupil to keep classic precision clear in his 
mind ; while, having at the same time mastered the more 
fluid treatment of the plastic gymnastics, he is ready to 
unite the two understandingly when the proper time ar- 
rives, and to combine with their graces the eloquence of 
pantomime. 

Music has sometimes been found to be the natural 
metier of students whose original intention was dancing. 



THE RUSSIAN ACADEMY 261 

In other instances the embryonic dancer has revealed a 
genius for acting. In such cases the pupil is encouraged 
to follow the line of natural aptitude. The ranks of both 
opera and drama in Russia include women whose ulti- 
mate vocations were discovered after they had become 
proficient dancers. While such cases are not common, 
neither are they rare; which is rather illuminating as 
to the quality of the musical instruction. 

An acquaintance with musical theory is insisted upon 
as a part of the dancer's equipment, though there be no 
probability of his ever applying his knowledge in any of 
the usual ways. Music and dancing are so interwoven 
that the latter's full meaning can hardly be expressed, 
or understood, without musical knowledge as an aid. 
Moreover, of every class of youngsters a certain num- 
ber are destined to be choreographic composers ; to these 
a knowledge of orchestral possibilities and limitations is 
indispensable. Indeed it is an asset of the utmost prac- 
tical utility to any dancer; any rehearsal demonstrates 
its value. In respect to this department and its lifelong 
value to those who have had its training, graduates of 
other academies unite in approval of the Russian. 

The course in drawing and painting seems to aim at 
critical appreciation of beauty, as expressed in the ab- 
stract qualities of grace in line and harmony in colour ; 
this in distinction to the regulation art school discipline 
in proportion and anatomy of the figure. The practical 
value of such training, in sharpening the power of con- 
structive criticism of dancing, is obvious. 

To the accomplishment of all this work — and more 
that need not be detailed — the pupils are not driven; 
they are led. Everything is fun. Play is made con- 
tributory to the general purpose of training artists. As 



262 THE DANCE 

an escape from realities into that world of make-believe 
that children crave, pantomimes are practiced evenings 
after dinner ; self-expression is encouraged on these oc- 
casions, criticism no more than hinted. As a play- 
ground for the girls, a large garden is provided. But 
the boys, to relax from the restraint of a daily two-hour 
lesson in French ballet, delight in class fencing lessons. 
The health of all is under unobtrusive but constant su- 
pervision. In each of the girls' dormitories a nurse is 
on watch every night, alert for the first unfavourable 
symptom — and ready, too, we may be sure, with sym- 
pathy for any little attack of loneliness. Miss Lopou- 
kowa's remembrances are not of any rigours of work, 
but rather of a protecting gentleness. 

Diet is studied ; the children are trained into hygienic 
positions in sleep! Hair, teeth, skin, heart, lungs, di- 
gestion and nerves are cared for by the most capable of 
specialists. By no means last in importance to a dancer 
are his feet; the Academy has its chiropodist always in 
attendance not only to rectify trouble, but to prevent it. 

As the academic years draw toward their close, the 
pupil receives instruction in supplementary branches 
necessary to the finished artist. Character dances are 
not only performed; they are studied in relation to the 
temperaments of their respective nations. Make-up re- 
ceives its due attention ; with paint and false hair young 
Russians practice transforming themselves into Japa- 
nese, Egyptians, Italians. When they leave the Acad- 
emy, they know their trade. 

Somehow such an institution seems too good to last; 
yet its excellence is far from being the product of any 
momentary enthusiasm. Its beginning was made in the 
first half of the eighteenth century. Ballets had been 




Mlle. Lydia Lopoukowa in "Le Lac Des Cygnes' 



To face page 262 




#. 



> 






i 




THE RUSSIAN ACADEMY 263 

presented before the Imperial Court as early as 1675. 
Peter the Great had insisted on Western dancing as one 
of the means to his end of bringing Russia abreast of 
the times. Indeed he is supposed to have learned it and 
taught it himself, as he did shipbuilding. In 1735 the 
Empress Anne engaged a Neapolitan composer and mu- 
sical director and a French ballet-master, and bade them 
present a ballet every week. Cadets from the military 
academy were at first impressed into service ; which may 
be contributory to the military exactness of the organ- 
isation of the Ballet Academy. 

As ballet material, the cadets were gradually (accord- 
ing to Flitch) replaced by boys and girls of the poorer 
classes, whom the ballet-master trained free of charge. 
The assignment of quarters to them in the palace, the 
appointment of a coachman's widow to take care of them, 
an appropriation of extra pay to the ballet-master for 
teaching, may be said to mark the beginnings of the 
Academy. Its existence has been uninterrupted, and, 
under the almost idolatrous Russian love of ballet rep- 
resentations, its growth has been steady. A composite 
French-Italian technique was adopted, as before stated, 
and kept unmodified until the recent romantic move- 
ment had proven its worth. Italian principal dancers 
were employed until, a generation ago, the need of them 
was ended by the Imperial Academy's arrival at a condi- 
tion of adequacy. 

The difference between the romantic ballet and the 
classic could not be described in an infinity of words, 
but it can be summarised in a few, and its character sug- 
gested in a few sketches. Briefly, the difference consists 
in liberty to depart from classic restriction of pose and 
movement, wherever such emancipation will contribute 



264 THE DANCE 

to expression. This freedom inevitably clashes with 
ballet tenets that have been unquestioned for a hundred 
and fifty years. The classic keeps the shoulders down ; 
the romantic does not hesitate to raise them, one or 
both, to portray fear, disdain, or what-not. In the eyes 
of the classicists, straightness of body (its detractors 
call it rigidity) is of absolute importance; romanticists, 
in their Oriental representations, for instance, do not 
hesitate to exploit the body's sinuosity to the utmost. 
Yet, in their apparent disregard of choreographic law, 
they have preserved rigourously the underlying truth of 
choreographic structure. Than their brilliant steps those 
of no dancer are cleaner or more perfect ; in equilibrium, 
in exactness, in all that makes for style and finish, they 
have no superiors. Nevertheless some of the classic 
ballet people, especially the Milan element, still protest 
that the romantic idea, with all its appurtenances, is a 
heresy. M. Legatt, of the St. Petersburg Academy, is 
said to group all the new elements into one category: 
Duncanism ! 

As the painter Bakst (and with him may be mentioned 
Boris Anisfeldt and others of the same artistic creed), 
while preserving recognisable national character in his 
scenes and costumes, does not scruple to subordinate his- 
torical facts to his motives, so does the romantic ballet- 
master disregard the natural limitations of folk-dances 
that he may choose to employ in his composition. If 
it suited the dramatic intention of M. Fokine to bring 
an Arabian dancer on to the point, or to introduce into 
her work a pure pirouette, it is fairly safe to assume 
that he would do so, despite the fact that Arabic dan- 
cing itself knows no such devices. It is to be added 
that although he should make such amendment to an 



THE RUSSIAN ACADEMY 




Representative Russian Ballet Poses and Groups. 
Two groups at top from Thamar, M. Bolm and Mme. Karsavina, Mile. 
Nijinska; MM. Govriloff and Kotchetovski ; M. Seilig and Mile. 
Stachko, all in Thamar. Figure with peacock, Mme. Astafieva m Le 
Dieu Bleu. 

(Courtesy of Comoedia Illustre.) 



266 THE DANCE 

Arabic dance as known to its own people, his product 
would express as forcibly the quality of Orientalism as 
would any dance to be found in Bagdad. The essential 
difference would be that the composition of M. Fokine 
would serve the immediate intention of grief, rage, or 
whatever might be the desired emotion, as well as em- 
phasising Oriental quality. 

It will be seen that the means of expression above in- 
dicated relieves the ballet pantomime of any limits of 
scope. The classic, generally speaking, is by its nature 
confined to fairy fantasies, the play of elves and spirits, 
Pierrot and Columbine. All that is dainty it renders to 
perfection. The new school, on the contrary, can treat 
with complete dramatic impressiveness all the mystic, 
epic and sometimes terrible imaginings of the Tartar 
mind. To its advantage it has among its disciples a full 
supply of dancing men; lack of them has crippled the 
classic expressions for many years. The woman doing 
a boy's part becomes ridiculous as soon as dramatic 
action departs from the lyrical mood. For this reason, 
perhaps, both opera ballets and academies of Europe 
outside of Russia have long lost the custom of staging 
pantomimes of greater consequence than operatic di- 
vertissement. Whereas the Marianski Theatre and the 
Moscow Opera dedicate two nights a week to ballet pan- 
tomimes exclusively, and have done so for many years. 

The mimetic dramas that have sprung into life with 
and as part of the new school draw material from leg- 
ends dark and savage, lyrical and dreamlike. Cleo- 
pdtre is a story of love and a cruel caprice of an idle 
queen of fabled Egypt. Prince Igor presents a back- 
ground of the ever-threatening Mongol, a myriad sav- 
age horde encamped outside the eastern gate of Europe. 



THE RUSSIAN ACADEMY 



267 




Representative Russian Ballet Poses and Groups. 
Prince Igor (M. Bolm). Thamar (Mile. Tchernicheva). 
L'Oiseau de Feu (Mme. Karsavina). Thamar (Mile. Hoklova). 
L'Oiseau de Feu (M. Boulgakow, M. Fokine). 

Le Dieu Bleu (M. Nijinski). 
(Courtesy of Comoedia Illustre.) 



268 THE DANCE 

Scheherazade is tropic passion marching undeviatingly 
into tragedy. In contrast to these ^re such ethereal 
creations as Le Spectre de la Rose, Le Carnaval, Les 
SylphideSj Le Lac des Cygnes, and Le Pavilion d'Ar- 
mide. Le Spectre de la Rose, composed to the melting 
music of Weber's Invitation a la False, is a fantasy of 
a girl who falls asleep in her chair after returning from 
a ball. In her hand she holds a rose which, in her 
dreams, turns into a spirit that dances with her, kisses 
her, and departs. Le Carnaval brings to life and unites 
in a slight plot a group of such fabled personages as 
Pierrot, Harlequin, Columbine, Pantalone and Papillon, 
animated by Schumann music with Russian orchestra- 
tion. Armide is a figure on a tapestry, who, by magic 
spell, comes forth in courtly dance with her companion 
figures and enchants a traveller sleeping in the apart- 
ment. Le Lac des Cygnes and Les Sylphides are prac- 
tically plotless reveries in the field of pure beauty; of 
tissue as unsubstantial as the rainbow. 

Still a third division is exemplified in UOiseau de 
Feu and Le Dieu Bleu, As though to test to the utmost 
the romantic ballet's range of expression, these last 
deal with occult Eastern religion, calling for a treatment 
purely mystic. 



CHAPTER XIII 

SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 

THE present vogue of dancing is sometimes charac- 
terised as a fad. As a matter of fact, it is no 
more than the resumption of a normal exercise. 
It is not extraordinary that people should wish to dance 
every day. It was extraordinary that there should 
have been a period of sixty years in which people did not 
wish to dance every day. Occidental history recalls few 
periods when the dance, natural as speech and exalting 
as music, underwent such neglect as it suffered during 
the latter half of the nineteenth century. Self-expres- 
sion was in bad taste. A phantasm of misinterpreted 
respectability standardised conduct. The resulting cau- 
tion of movement sterilised the dance, and sterility all 
but killed it. 

As that which might conveniently be called the Renais- 
sance of Individuality began to be felt, within the past 
few years, the endless iteration of one step in each 
dance became inadequate to interpret feelings. People 
learned that their own ideas were worth at least a trial ; 
forms fell automatically. But, no one being at hand to 
show how dancing might be made an expression, people 
turned to other recreations. 

Then came the Russian ballet. It showed that dan- 
cing, more completely perhaps than any other action 
within mortal scope, is a means of expression of every 

emotion humanity may feel. It showed, too, how incon- 

269 



270 THE DANCE 

ceivably beautiful may be the human body when it is 
made to conform to the laws of beauty — which are iden- 
tical with the laws of choreography. And so perfect was 
the artistry of these demigods from out of the North 
that "difficulty" became a forgotten word. Every man 
thought that he felt within himself at least a portion of 
the essence that animated Volinine, Mordkin, Nijinski; 
every woman knew she had latent some of the magic of 
Pavlowa, Lopoukowa, or Karsavina. And they were 
right. Every normal human is in greater or less degree 
an artist. 

Sudden reactions are usually attended by more vio- 
lence than discrimination. The appetite for sheer quan- 
tity is satisfied before the need of restraint is felt. So 
with the new dancing that gratified hundreds of thou- 
sands of feet suddenly freed from conventional weights 
on their movements. The Turkey Trot (name to delight 
posterity) raced eastward from San Francisco in a form 
to which the word ''dancing" could be applied only by 
exercise of courtesy. Literally, caricaturists could not 
caricature it; it made caricatures of its devotees. But 
they were not concerned with that. They were in the 
exaltation of rediscovery ; they were happily, beneficially 
mad with varied rhythm, marked by free movements of 
their own bodies. The "trot" was easily learned; the 
problem became one of finding space in which to dance it, 
so quickly did its performers fill every floor within hear- 
ing-distance of a piano. 

The cynical inference that morals or their lack bore 
any relation to the phenomenon of this dance's rapid 
spread, is beside the point. Of the original "trot" noth- 
ing remains but the basic step. The elements that drew 
denunciation upon it have gone from the abiding-places 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 271 

of politeness; yet its gains in popularity continue un- 
checked. As though to emphasise its superiority to 
former mannerisms, it is just now urbanely changing its 
name : it prefers to be known as the One-Step. And in 
the desire for a new appellation it is justified, since no 
history ever so vividly recalled the fable of the ugly 
duckling. The hypothetical turkey whose trot it once 
portrayed proves, as it matures, to be a creature closely 
resembling a peacock. The peacock it was whose des- 
ignation (Spanish pavo) furnished the name of the old 
Pavane; and the One-Step, moved by some force more 
potent than coincidence, is now tending strongly toward 
the form of that favourite of seventeenth-century courts. 

With the Turkey Trot came out of the West the 
Bunny Hug, the Grisdy Bear, and perchance the bear- 
ers of other names reminiscent of the zoo. They 
treated Europe to a mixture of amusement and irrita- 
tion, but were not destined to long life on either side of 
the Atlantic. 

While North America turkey-trotted, the Argentine 
Tango was delighting and scandalising Paris. A dance 
of curious history, the Tango. Certain details of its 
execution justify the assignment of its remote origin 
to the Gipsies of Spain. Argentina is an attractive 
market for Spanish dancing; undoubtedly the original 
Tango, composed of Gipsy steps and movements, was 
shown in Argentina soon after its first exploitation in 
Spain, some forty years ago. To change it from a solo 
for a woman into a dance for couples needed only re- 
arrangement, plus modification of movements that might 
not be considered respectable. The latter being a purely 
relative term, disagreements followed the dance's ap- 
pearance in Paris — Argentinian synonym for Paradise. 



272 THE DANCE 

It is to Paris that the prosperous Argentinos go for re- 
freshment; and there they introduced their form of the 
Tango. Robert, a popular Parisian teacher of social 
dancing, arranged a version of it to conform to con- 
servative standards, and its spread followed. 

The Boston Waltz (the latter word is generally omit- 
ted), born in the period when Sousa's marches and two- 
steps were omnipresent, existed as little more than a 
theory until, with the advent of the new dances, it was 
found to be in tune with the times. With the Tango and 
One-Step it has come into a family relationship, now 
borrowing from them for its own embellishment, again 
lending them a step for the good of their variety. Add 
to these the Brazilian Maxixe and the Hesitation 
Waltz, and we complete the list of dances which, at the 
moment of writing, animate social gatherings on both 
sides of the Atlantic ; inspire restaurant-keepers to pro- 
vide dancing floors, hotel managers to give thes dan- 
sants, with periodical competitions, and instruction if 
desired; the dances that are successfully demanding for 
themselves a new and unobjectionable species of dance- 
hall, and causing grave scientists to debate over them 
as symptoms — with profound allusions to the so-called 
''dancing mania" of an earlier century. The extent of 
the vogue needs neither record nor comment in this 
place. That which has not been duly noted in the peri- 
odical press is the fact that a fashion of rhythmic exer- 
cise is proving to be a well-spring of good spirits and a 
fountain of youth for millions of men and women. 
Every one benefits by it. None discontinue it. The 
only people not seeking new steps for their repertoire are 
those who have not yet found time to make a beginning, 
or who have been dismayed by the forbidding number of 





The "Waltz Minuet" 
Mr. John Murray Anderson, Miss Genevieve Lyon 

Characteristic style (i) — V'ariation, position of hands (2) — Preparation for a 
turn (3) — The mirror figure 



To face page 272 





u 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 273 

new names, both of steps and of dances. For their bene- 
fit, it is in order to make a digression at this point. 

Let it be emphatically understood that the dances 
above enumerated are the only ones that have any pres- 
ent significance in French, English or American ball- 
rooms. So-called "new" dances, bearing names of sum- 
mer and winter resorts, heroines and what-not, are pre- 
sented in endless succession; but analysis always shows 
their almost complete lack of individuality. Their claim 
to recognition regularly consists of a minor variation of 
a familiar bit of one of the Waltzes, the Tango, or the 
One-Step. Around this nucleus are gathered steps 
taken from the other dances directly ; and the '"composi- 
tion'' is supposed to contribute publicity to some pro- 
gressive teacher or performer. At the present moment 
a "Spanish'' something-or-other is claiming attention, 
on grounds which, examined closely, consist in a draw- 
ing of one foot up to the other, with a slight accompany- 
ing body movement. Spanish dancing does use this 
movement, it is true. So does the One-Step; the Tur- 
key Trot had it on its birthday. Examples of such ef- 
forts might be multiplied, but one is sufficient to show 
the Heedlessness of concern over strange and unproved 
titles. 

The steps and figures hereinafter described are stand- 
ard. The list cannot be complete, since the Tango alone 
has figures to a number variously estimated at from 
about fifty to more than a hundred; nor is it desirable 
that it should be. Many of those figures are wholly 
alien to the true Tango character, contribute nothing 
of beauty or interest, and might well be allowed to perish. 
Others are of such slight variation from basic forms 
that they can be learned in a moment by any one familiar 



274 THE DANCE 

with the principles. EmbelHshments are easily added, 
once the structure is solidly built. 

The instruction that follows was prepared under the 
careful supervision of a teacher whose good taste is un- 
questionable and whose broad familiarity with dan- 
cing in all its aspects qualifies him to foresee and esti- 
mate tendencies with extraordinary precision: Mr. 
John Murray Anderson, previously introduced in these 
pages in connection with the old court dances. The 
photographs illustrating the text were made from the 
work of Mr. Anderson with his partner, Miss Genevieve 
Lyon; collective possessors of a favourable and grow- 
ing popularity as performers. These photographs may 
be studied with full reliance upon their value as guides 
to the style of each of the dances described. 

To the beginner, the diagrams and text will serve as a 
grammar, by whose guidance the steps can be put into 
practice. Familiarity will accustom the limbs and body 
to the mechanism of the steps, and the mirror will go far 
in revealing the faults inseparable from any new under- 
taking that requires skill. At that point the photo- 
graphs have their special value. 

As soon as the student is reasonably conversant with 
his grammar, he should begin to avail himself of oppor- 
tunities to put his knowledge to practical use. Also, if 
he wishes to dance with distinguished grace and style, he 
should put himself for a term under the eye of a capable 
teacher. Ambitious professional performers, possessed 
of the knowledge and skill derived from years of concen- 
trated study of their art, periodically submit themselves 
to rigourous coaching. The amateur, though measured 
by much less exacting standards, has commensurately 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 275 

less preliminary training on which he may depend to give 
him the qualities that make for graceful execution. No 
dancer can see his own work truly. All need at least the 
occasional oversight of a skilled eye ; and a teacher's ex- 
perience in detecting the causes of imperfections enables 
him to cure them in a minimum of time. 

The figures {enchain ement) composing the new 
dances have no set order of performance ; their sequence 
is at caprice, usually suggested by the music. Nor is 
there yet any indication that their increasing number has 
reached its limit. Every one is at liberty to test his 
powers of invention and composition, to experiment 
with the adaptation of steps of one dance into another, 
and, in general, to give play to his individuality. But, 
to hasten the uniform acceptance of a certain set of fig- 
ures as a standard basis of each dance, it would be best 
to postpone indulgence in fantasies until after the sub- 
joined figures have been learned. At present the pro- 
gress of the Tango, in particular, is hampered by the fact 
that hardly two people in the same ballroom will be found 
in agreement as to what steps constitute that dance. 
And, as noted before, a preliminary learning of the fun- 
damentals will enable him who dances to decide intel- 
ligently what new steps may be added to a dance appro- 
priately, and what are out of harmony with that 
dance's character. (The discussion of theme, in the 
chapter on ballet technique, deals with composition of 
steps.) 

Explicit verbal description of steps is possible only 
by use of the accepted designations of positions of the 
feet. If they do not impress themselves on the memory 
clearly, the reader should by all means copy the diagram 



276 THE DANCE 

on a separate slip, and keep it before him as he experi- 
ments with the translation of text and diagram into 
practice of the steps. 

/ 

It will be seen that the designations of positions differ 
from those of the ballet in the respect that the feet "toe 
out'" at an angle of 45° to an imaginary line of advance, 
instead of the 90° prescribed by the classic ballet. Modi- 
fications of the simple positions, such, for instance, as 
anterior or posterior position of either foot, open or 
closed position, etc., will explain themselves readily. 

The relative positions of partners are ( i ) closed posi- 
tion, (2) side position, and (3) open position. Closed 
position is that of the individuals facing each other, 
shoulders parallel, each looking over the other's left 
shoulder, the man's left hand holding the woman's right 
hand, and his right hand on her back. Side position 
moves the figures (holding each other practically as be- 
fore), each to his left or each to his right, far enough 
to take each away from in front of the other. Coming 
toward the spectator, the couple in side position shows 
the width of both bodies. Open position places the man 
and the woman side by side, facing in the same direc- 
tion, joined by his hand on her waist, or by holding 
hands. 

Necessary preliminaries disposed of, we are ready to 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 277 

proceed with the actual mechanism of the dances, of 
which the first to be considered is 

THE ONE-STEP 

1. The Castle Walk (invented and introduced by 
Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Castle). This is a walking step 
of direct advance and retreat, not used to move to the 
side. The couple are in closed position, the woman, 
therefore, stepping backward as the man steps forward, 
and vice versa. The advancing foot is planted in fourth 
position, the knee straight, the toe down so that the ball 
of the foot strikes the floor first. The walk presents an 
appearance of strutting, although the shoulders are held 
level, and the body firm; a sharp twist that punctuates 
each step is effected by means of pivoting on the support- 
ing foot. The shoulder and hip movements that origi- 
nally characterised the ''trot" are no longer practiced. 

In all the following floor-plan diagrams, the right 
foot is indicated by solid black, the left foot by outline. 

2. The Turn is a walking step, pivoting on one foot 
to change direction. 









« 



The right foot comes from the preceding step to the 
place of starting; while it makes two successive long 
steps (i, 2) the left foot turns "on its place." The 
turn's completion brings the right foot into anterior 
fourth position. The woman's steps are the converse of 
the man's, her left foot making the long steps, while her 



278 THE DANCE 

right foot turns on its place. The turn gains smooth- 
ness by means of allowing the right knees to touch each 
other lightly. 

3. The Dip. Starting with (say) the right foot in 
posterior fourth position: during the first beat, sink (for 
form see photograph) ; on the second beat, rise, trans- 
ferring the weight to the left (advanced) foot, gliding 
the right foot up to third position, on arriving at which 
it instantly receives the weight again, if the dip is to be 
repeated. In that case the left foot again glides to an- 
terior fourth position, and the step is effected as before. 
Frequently several dips are made in succession. They 
often succeed a turn, the latter's finish leaving the feet 
in appropriate (fourth) position for the purpose. 

The dip is executed in any direction, with the perform- 
ers in any position of the couple. It occurs in other 
dances, but its technique is always the same. 

4. The Grape- Vine is an alternation of second and 
fourth positions of the feet ; one foot travelling sidewise 
on a straight line, the other foot going from anterior 






Alta^ 



,*■ 



^ 



A" 



i.' 



. . ^CUaJ Ai fin^ 



to posterior fourth position, and vice versa. The step 
travels to the woman's right (the man's left), without 



turnmg. 



The man's steps are the converse of the woman's, he 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 279 

starting with his left foot. The step is executed in 
closed position of the couple, and is usually performed 
several times in succession. 

The arrival of the feet in fourth position (i. e., the 
steps marked "2" in the diagram) is usually punctuated 
with a slight dip. 

5. The One-Step Eight, so called from the num- 
ber of beats it occupies, is distinct from the Tango 
Huit, described later, which describes a figure 8 on the 
floor. The eight of the One-Step is a simple walk, with 
turn. 

i v'"'^^ *X' 

V -> ->'i^ 

The man's steps are the converse of the woman's ; she 
pivots on her right foot, he on his left foot. Executed 
in closed position of the couple. 

6. The Square, originally a Tango figure, is 
equally effective in the One-Step, From posterior third 



. r-. . ^ 

\s3 ¥^JI^ -—^ .4ci..^ jdM.^^ 

position, the right foot steps to (i) anterior fourth po- 
sition; left foot ghdes to (2) second position; right 
foot glides into (3) first position; left foot steps back 



28o 



THE DANCE 



to (4) posterior fourth position; right foot steps to (5) 
anterior third position. It is usually repeated several 
times. Executed in closed position of the couple. 

Execution of the figure occupies two measures of mu- 
sic; steps done in half-time are indicated by the word 
"and," instead of a number. The learner will find it 
useful to chant the count aloud, avoiding stress on the 
half-count of "and." 

Let it be understood that the word "and," used in 
counting, has the above significance in descriptions to 
come. 

7. A figure whose execution occupies three measures. 
The steps of the first bar are quick, those of the sec- 
ond slower; the difference of speed should be empha- 
sised. 





^^4/ y*»u<i*uA«^ • &>a^ jr. ;i, 5 *.m/v ' 




SjL.C'^txJ 




'r*\oa<*A/my 



m^. 



First bar : As the left foot crosses over to "3," it will 
be noted that the next placement of the right foot is 
marked "and"; this is done because the time occupied 
by the little movement is only one-half beat. In practice 
the steps are counted, one, two, three and four. The left 
foot's step marked "4" is a coupe; as the foot is planted, 
it displaces the right foot; which takes a position ex- 
tended to the rear, raised from the floor. 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 281 

Second bar: The space between the last place of the 
right foot in the first bar and its place in *'i" in the 
second bar, does not represent proportionate progress 
across the floor; the steps of the three bars are dia- 
grammed consecutively, to avoid the confusion of super- 
imposed Hnes. On count ''1" of the second bar, advance 
the right foot from its raised posterior position to an- 
terior fifth position. Fill in the count of "2" with a 
slow advance of the left foot to fourth position, which 
it reaches on count ''2>' 5 upon which it receives the 
weight, the right foot simultaneously being raised from 
the floor in posterior fourth position on count '*4." 

Third bar: On "i,'' plant the right foot in posterior 
fourth position and slowly sink the weight back on it; 
on "2," glide the left foot back slowly (3) to reach 
third position on count "4/' 

The figure is executed in open position of the couple. 
Its manner is smooth, without dips. It is usually re- 
peated several times in succession. 

8. The Murray Anderson Turn: a turn en ara- 



X 

'f^/ 



^- -./r 



» 



4 r.4/ ^/ ^> 



y^juMu 



f^fcot 



^*^- iX t.^ "^ 



oyfxom/' 



besqtie. The man crosses the right foot in front of the 
left, and transfers his weight to it (i. e., the right foot). 



282 THE DANCE 

Simultaneously the woman, holding his hand in her hand 
(open position of couple), begins a walk around a circle 
of which the man's right foot is the centre. As his legs 
''unwind," he rises to the ball of the right foot, extend- 
ing the left leg easily to the rear (see arabesque, chapter 
on ballet technique) and raising the left foot from the 
floor. 

The woman's walking movement should be smooth 
rather than accented. After repeating the turns ad lib., 
it is found that the One-Step Eight follows harmoniously 
after the turn. 

9. A cross-over with a woman's turn. This figure 
looks complicated in the diagram and in performance. 
As a matter of fact, it is not especially difficult. 

' . . *\ 









ih^ld hucuwLt/ 







t 



V 






The diagram represents the cross-over, which pre- 
cedes the turn. The turn is described in words. 

In preparation for the cross-over, the couple changes 
from closed to side position, the man on the woman's left. 
The man's steps are the converse of the woman's ; and his 
travel back and forth counters hers, so that the two pass 
and repass — in the side position of the couple, he is now 
on the her left side, now on her right, and so on. 

Keeping track of the woman's steps on the diagram, 
read the man's steps one by one, correlating them with 
the woman's. 





D 



EVELOPMENT OF 



AN Arch "A La Pirouette' 



Cross to right (i) — Cross to left (2) 

Start of turn (3) 



To face page zSz 





The "One-Step" 

The Kitchen Sink ; position of couple (1,2) 

The "Brazilian Maxixe" 
Characteristic position of advanced foot (3) 



To face page 28j 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 283 

After taking side position on the woman's left, the 
man takes two walking steps forward, right, left; cross- 
ing the right foot in front of the left, he changes to the 
woman's right side. Still walking forward, right, left, 
two steps bring him to the end of the third measure. 
Finish in first position of the feet. 

Note : In the work of both man and woman, the turn 
in the first two measures, and the half-turn in the third, 
involve only simple walking steps, plus a pivot to change 
direction. The interaction of arms suggests itself in 
practice. 

The fourth bar marks the woman's turn — or pirouette, 
as it is often and usually mistakenly called. The man's 
left hand holding the woman's right hand, the woman 
executes a turn — a real pirouette (q. v.) is permissible — 
under the man's raised left arm, finishing in closed 
position of the couple. (See photographs.) The turn 
under the arm is sometimes called the arch a la pirouette. 

10. A woman's turn, varying the preceding, with 
which it is identical up to the end of the second bar. 

Having completed the turn occupying the first and 
second bars, the woman lets go her partner's hand and 
walks around behind him, completing the circuit in four 
steps. These must be measured so that the fourth step 
brings her into readiness to go into closed position of 
the couple; and timed so that, after going into closed 
position, the couple has neither to wait nor to hurry 
in order to move with the next beat. 

During the walk around, the woman lightly glides 
her left hand around the man's neck. The man re- 
mains stationary, his left arm extended horizontally 
before him. The woman's right hand takes the man's 
left hand as she comes into closed position. 



284 THE DANCE 

The foregoing movements of the One-step mnst be 
executed not only with fine regard to rhythm, but also 
to continuity. If they are not made to flow one into 
another, the effect is jerky and uncertain-looking. 

THE BOSTON 

The distinguishing step-combination of this very at- 
tractive dance is complete in one measure. Its essence 
is in a certain effect of syncopation, secured by keeping 
the weight on the same foot through two successive 
beats — contrary to the practice of transferring the 
weight with each beat, as in the old Waltz, Another pe- 
culiarity of the Boston is the carriage of the weight 
counter to the line of direction of travel, giving an ef- 
fect of holding back. The dance is performed with de- 
liberation; its execution aims at a rather grand style. 

The dip characteristic of and named for the Boston 
is, in execution, the same as the dip described in con- 
nection with the One-Step (see photographs). The 
management of a sequence of dips as they occur in the 
Boston is, however, a matter for special attention, which 
will be given it in its place. 

I. The essential step: 

On count ''i,'' the entire weight is thrown upon the 
right foot ; and there it continues through the remainder 
of the bar. On count "2," swing the left foot forward 
into anterior fourth position, straightening the left 
knee, touching the floor with the point, as far forward 
as is possible without taking any of the weight off the 





The Waltz 

A position of the couple in the Waltz Minuet (i) — Correct position of man's 

hand on woman's back (2) — A position also assumed 

in the One-Step Eight (3) — A Dip (4) 



To face page 284 





^ 




M 



The Waltz 

Showing correct positions 

Of couple (i) — Of feet, in short steps (2) — Of feet, in Dip (3) — Another view of 

the Dip (4) 



To face page 285 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 285 

right foot; meanwhile the right foot rises to the ball. 
On count "3," lower the heel of the right foot to the 
floor. 

Turn by pivoting on the supporting foot, continuing 
to touch the point of the free foot to the floor. 

In the bar that follows, the left foot takes the first 
step, as before. To accomplish this the weight must 
be kept on the right foot. 

2. The step backward is the converse of the fore- 
going. The diagram indicates, as start, the position 
in which the feet were left by the preceding step. 

txuL y;«^ J2. ^^,. .^^ xKH.oJj' 

For the sake of simplicity, the diagrams indicate a 
straight advance-and-retreat movement. It will be un- 
derstood that, in practice, this is varied to effect turns, 
i. e., by pivoting on the supporting foot. 

The execution above indicated applies to the Long 
Boston. In the Short Boston each beat is — or was — 
made the equivalent of two counts for the feet. The 
resulting jerkiness and lack of sweep excluded the Short 
Boston from any lasting popularity. 

3. The Boston Dip is, in practice, a series of three 
successive dips, executed in reverse turning movement. 
Each of the three occupies a whole measure, and a fourth 
measure is used in returning to the regular Boston walk- 
ing step. 

In putting the step into practice from the diagram, 
the student will greatly simplify the process by chanting 
the count: right/ left, right; left/ right, left; right/ 



286 



THE DANCE 



left, right, etc., accented as indicated, on the first beat 
of each measure. Because the foot designated by the 
accented count receives the weight ; and the more nearly 
the disposal of the weight can be made to take care of 
itself, the more attention the student has for other de- 
tails. 




li^Mi^i /yyijuuMAJty 



'^'^ii^Af'yY\.vcUMAJU' 



The dip begins on the first beat, completing the re- 
covery on the third. It always is made with the right 
foot in posterior position. In fact, the right foot does 
not get out of posterior position. Now, on measures 
where the left foot takes the first count, as in the first 
measure (above diagram) this is easy. But in alter- 
nate measures the right foot takes the first beat, and 
just here begins confusion from which few find any es- 
cape except by means of practice. Perhaps owing to 
a rhythm that the dip has in common with the old 
Waltz, the right foot has a tendency to go, in its turn, 
into the anterior position. But it must be kept back. 
It must be kept, broadly speaking, on the outer of two 
curving paths, of which the left travels the inner. Note 
the appearance of this on the diagram showing turns. 

If the learner succeeds, at this point, in performing 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 287 

the dip to the satisfaction of a candid and intelHgent 
critic, let him by all means proceed to the next section, 
praising Allah for the gift of facility. If not, let him 
be cheered by the fact that it is as difficult for any one 
else as for himself. A semblance of it is easily acquired. 
To insure reality, return to the figure on page 286. 

Observe that in bars where the right foot takes the 
first count (the even-numbered measures, beginning 
with the second) the right foot does not step out in ad- 
vance of the left foot. Instead, it sweeps out to the 
side; the movement is accompanied by pivoting on the 
left foot. A short step of the left foot to place ''2" marks 
the cadence and preserves its anterior fourth position. 
On the other hand, in measures where the left foot takes 
the first count, it keeps its anterior position almost auto- 
matically. 



V^ 



Vi'T 



As an added expression of the difference of treatment 
between the alternate measures, it is here reduced to the 
form of a straight advance. 

The Boston Dip carries with it the possibility of beauty 
commensurate with its difficulty. On the other hand, its 
good execution is none too common. The exhilaration 
that attends its performance appears, sometimes, to flat- 
ter the performer into a belief that his style is as agree- 
able as his sensation. It is, therefore, more than others, 
a step in which every one should submit his execution 
to rigourous and intelligent criticism. 



288 THE DANCE 

4. An embellishing enchainement, complete in six 
measures, of which each is filled by one step. 

Until the ''&' count, the figure represents a straight 
advance and retreat. The diagram departs slightly 
from that form in order to avoid the confusion of super- 
imposed lines. 






'^ 



As an aid, count as follows: Step,' Dip,' Point'-dip, 
Step,' Dip,' Turn.' Turn in the regular direction, not 
in reverse ; and accompany the turn also with a dip. 

In the third measure, the left foot recedes quickly 
from its anterior position (where it points) to its pos- 
terior position. In the third, fourth and fifth measures, 
note that the left foot makes three successive move- 
ments. 

5. Another embellishment. Without turns, its the- 
ory is as follows: 

Each count represents one measure. 
With turns included, the figure works out as follows 
(for instance) : 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 289 

The couple is in closed position. The above diagrams 
represent the man's steps ; the woman's are the converse. 
Repeat at will. 



THE HESITATION WALTZ 

This new evolution preserves all the charm of the 
old-fashioned Waltz, and by means of certain embellish- 
ments has given it new life and interest. 

I. Its THEME is readily understood by means of a dia- 
gram: 

^-— ■" ^-— "|-/^— -^1 



This key step is complete in two measures. It will be 
noted that the first measure is devoted to a walking 
step. 

Elevation: the "i" beat in the second bar is accom- 
panied by a slight dip. Toward the last of the second 
bar the dancers slowly draw themselves up until, on 
"3," they are raised to the ball of the supporting foot. 
The man's right leg, as it draws the right foot up to 
place "3," is distinctly relaxed. 

Note, in the second bar, that the right foot continues 
to move during the second beat. 



290 THE DANCE 

The step is performed in either open or closed posi- 
tion of the couple. If the former, the woman's steps 
are identical with the man's ; if the latter, the converse. 
If in open position, the travel is forward. 

To turn in the regular direction, the step indicated in 
the second measure is in use. 

2. The Reverse is effected by an alternation of Bos- 
ton Dips with an equal number of measures of old-fash- 
ioned Walts (see Boston Dip). Dip in measures where 
the right foot is in posterior position without aid of a 
shortened step or of a left-foot pivot; in other words, 
measures in which the right foot is forced into posterior 
position. 

3. A variation of the theme : 



^::z:i^ V 



For convenience, count the time: one, two, three, 
pause. On the word "pause," throw the weight strongly 
on to the left foot, the right remaining easily in second 
position with the edge of the sole resting on the 
floor. 

In repeating, move at right angles to the direction 
followed in the preceding measure. The man's direc- 
tion turns toward his left, the woman's toward her right. 

4. The Lyon Chasse : an effective figure in open po- 
sition of the couple. Complete in one measure; advan- 
tageously repeated several times. 





The "Tango" 
Mr. Anderson and Miss Lyon 

Characteristic style (i, 2, 4) — Woman circles man (3) 



To face page 290 





The "Tango" 
Characteristic style 



To face page 291 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 291 

, ^ * • ■^•^ 






^j*- 



775 



c '©/■'a" 



• *«•' 



Count (?n^, fwo and three. 

Description of the man's steps: Advance right foot 
to fourth position, where it receives the weight ( i ) ; 
cross left foot over in front of right foot, pivoting on 
the latter with the swing of the left foot, so that the left 
foot when planted is in anterior fourth position (2) ; 
cross right foot behind left (and) step out with left 
foot in the direction of starting. The travel effected 
is a straight advance. 

The woman's steps are the converse of the man's, 
bringing the couple face to face on "2." 

THE ARGENTINE TANGO 

To some people the Tango seems to be an object of 
suspicion. In a previous incarnation, three or four 
years ago, it did, in all likelihood, fall short of the re- 
quirements for acceptance in Anglo-Saxon ballrooms. 
Yet, notwithstanding the correction of its shortcomings, 
or the transformation of them into virtues, there lin- 
gers a semifashion of nagging at it. Of those volun- 
teers for its reformation who make specific complaints, 
no two factions have a point of belief in common; the 
factions are numerous, and their observations not very 
logical. Indeed, it would be illuminating as well as en- 
tertaining if dictagraphic reports could be collected, of 
all the discussions the Tango has inspired since its in- 



292 THE DANCE 

troduction in Paris. Such reports should be given to 
one of the serious-minded critics of the dance for com- 
pilation, with his own comments. "The movements em- 
ployed in the Tango, soberly viewed as a measure of 
respectability'' — some such title as that the treatise 
should have, to be representative of a species of mis- 
giving of which expression has not wholly subsided. 

It is time that the ghost should be laid, since the Tango 
is now, and has been for a year or more, a beautiful and 
irreproachable dance — assuming, of course, its perform- 
ance in the clean spirit usually found in good society. 
Any dance can be made suggestive or offensive. So 
can walking. But that is no reflection on the intrinsic 
quality of either dance or walk. The measure of the 
beauty or character of a dance is to be found in the move- 
ments which, by common acceptance, that dance pre- 
scribes ; a rendering that departs from those movements 
fails to measure those attributes, in so far as it violates 
the accepted form. Now, a couple of specimens of the 
movements that bring criticism upon the Tango. 

Of its characteristics, one is a manner of touching 
the point to the floor, the foot pointing straight for- 
ward; followed by a quick raise of the foot, the raise 
accompanied by a turn outward of the heel. The ef- 
fect is, undoubtedly, exotic; that is part of its charm. 
It is criticised, however, on grounds of respectability! 

One more movement carries this offending step to 
the attention of a wholly different set of censors. These 
latter have found no fault with the touch of the foot 
to the floor in (say) second position, and its raise in the 
indicated manner. But now, the same foot moves back 
to fourth position. Just that. The same old fourth 
position, without innovation or adornment. And there- 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 293 

upon, with all seeming earnestness, the second informal 
committee of censors protests on grounds of respecta- 
bility! Why? Is it because, in coming to that fourth 
position, two steps were taken in succession by the same 
foot? No, that is not it; it seems that fourth position 
is at fault, per se. 

The character of the objections suggests the existence 
of an apprehension that an unqualified acceptance of the 
Tango would be risque. There is no other explanation 
for the hostility, under present conditions of the dance. 
Yet, idle as are the objections, they cannot be quite over- 
looked. A certain number of vacillators are listening 
now to one voice, to another to-morrow : however great 
or small their influence, in ratio to its strength it will 
tend to denature a product that now has a flavour to 
interest discerning taste, yet hardly to imperil the weak- 
headed. 

Dropping the above issue, the Tango's trick of the 
foot continues to be interesting; this time in relation to 
the interest of character. The sharp in-twist of the foot 
is one of the points of individuality both of the Tango 
and the dance of the Arab. Now, probable family re- 
lationship puts the Tango under no obligation to family 
traits, for the sake of family dignity; that is beside the 
point. But, in its own interest, the Tango would do 
well to take a careful look at the work of the Arab, to 
see that it is deriving equal profit from the same re- 
sources. Which it is not. By current usage (in the 
United States at least) the Tango makes a practice of 
toeing forward, or even in, to an extent that is not only 
monotonous, but which robs the quick in-turn device of 
the value of surprise. The Arab woman, on the other 
hand, places her feet at a natural angle; moreover, she 



294 THE DANCE 

precedes the sharp turn-in with an outward turn suf- 
ficiently marked to give the former a telling contrast. 
The same is true of the Flamenco dances in Spain. 
Their superior use of the trick justifies attention on the 
part of those under whose influence the new dance is de- 
termining its final form. 

In point of merit, the Tango measures up to a stand- 
ard which, though by no means a true measure of qual- 
ity, has a certain practical value: it is sufificiently pic- 
turesque to cover the faults of a half-good dancer. Con- 
versely, as a vehicle for the equilibrium and style that 
unite in a very good dancer, it is not excelled by any 
social dance of modern times. 

It should be noted that the most suitable music is 
among the compositions of the Argentinos themselves. 

I. The Tango Walk (Spanish, el Paseo; French, 
le Promenade) is used as a variety to figures. The man 
moves forward, starting with the left foot, the woman 
backward. The step brings the advancing foot to posi- 
tion squarely in front of the supporting foot, both (by 
the present mode) pointed straight forward. The full 
weight is transferred to the advanced foot as soon as 
possible, the knee of the leg in posterior position 
promptly relaxed, the posterior foot resting, for a mo- 
ment, lightly on the point. The step in advance is made 
with a light gliding movement. 

In turning, follow the reverse direction invariably. 

Technique of the step backward : Start the foot with 
a glide, letting it rise from the floor toward the end of 
the step, meanwhile toeing inward; plant the foot 
squarely to the rear of the supporting foot. At the 
moment of placing the retreating foot, the knee of the 
advanced leg is relaxed, and the advanced foot is turned 





The "Tango" 

The two upper pictures represent phases of the "Scissors" figure, 
show characteristic style of the "Tango" 



The two lower 



To face page 294 





The "Tango" 

The Reverse (semi-open position) (i) — The regular Tango walking step (2) — 
[i and 2 apply also to the One-step Eight] — Style of movement (3) — Posi- 
tion of hands sometimes assumed to emphasize the end of a phrase (4) 



To face page 295 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 295 

inward, the heel remaining placed as a pivot. The same 
directions apply to man and woman. 
2. The Corte. 




Starting in first position : Put the weight on the right 
foot ( I ) ; step forward with the left foot, quickly bring- 
ing the right up to third position, both steps accom- 
plished on (2) ; bring the left foot back to fifth position, 
rise on balls of feet (3), drop heels to floor with plie 
of knees (4). 

The second measure finds the right foot in anterior 
fifth position. The first beat brings it back to posterior 
fifth position and throws the weight upon it. Continue 
same as first measure. 

3. The Scissors. (Spanish, las Tijeras; French, 
les Ciseaux,) 

The "i'' count is marked by a touch-and-turn of the 
foot ; touch the point to the floor, and instantly raise it, 
sharply, throwing the heel out; set foot on place "2." 

With the turn of the foot, allow the hips (but not the 



296 THE DANCE 

shoulders) to turn also in such manner as to bring the 
right foot, for the moment, into posterior fourth posi- 
tion. This applies to beat ''i/' ''la" represents the 
pointing of right and left foot respectively. 
A variation of the same is effected as follows : 






i > 




Wt/..nrj^-:^^ fr^Cli^ "" P''^^ 



Turning may be accomplished by (a) the man cross- 
ing the right foot over the left, and (b) the woman 
"unwinding" him by moving around him executing scis- 
sors steps, turning to her right. Done in closed position 
of the couple. 

4. The Media Luna (French, la Demi-lune), 



W' ♦' 






^ 



>-. 






Start in first position. Right foot to anterior fourth 
position (i); left foot to second position (and) right 
foot glided to first position (2). Left foot to posterior 
fourth position (3) ; right foot to second position (and) 
left foot to first position (4). 

The place and position of start and finish are identical. 

5. The Eight (Spanish, el Ocho; French, le Huit). 

Start in first position. Cross right foot in front of 
left (i); bring left foot to first position (and) right 





The "Tango" 
The Corte (i) — Characteristic style (2) — A variation (3) — Start of a turn (4) 



To face page 296 





A "Tango" Step 

Man's foot displaces woman's (i) — Woman's foot displaces man's (2) — Each 
displaces the other's foot (3) 



To face page 297 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 297 



6ta^r 




O/SAjA 



foot to posterior fourth position (2) ; cross left foot over 
in front of right (3), right foot to first position (and) 
left foot forward to fourth position. 

Executed either in open or closed position of the 
couple. In the latter, the woman's steps are the con- 
verse of the above. In open position the same steps are 
used by both partners; their travel describing a zigzag 
figure. 

6. A Waltz Turn. To change from one figure to 
another, the couple may make several turns in reverse 
direction, by means of Waltz step. 



1 5 «-/.w 

V 




p.v* 




advance ni. 

Left, A^,St^ 
1' ^ 7: 






1\ Z 


1- yytxJtaAUAjW 


X'^yUUatiMJU 


.2^ yi^yuXUUMjU' 


'^—^^vyuuuuAu^* 



First measure: With the rise on the left foot, the 
right foot would best be considered, for simplicity's sake, 
as leaving the flioor, and remaining in the air until "i" 
of the second measure. 

Second measure : On ''i," the weight goes back upon 



298 THE DANCE 

the right foot; consider the left foot in the air, until 
*'i'' of the third measure. 

Third measure: Same as first measure. 

Fourth measure : Cross right foot over left foot and 
simultaneously rise ( i ) ; hold the position until "2." 
Sink with sufficient plie to give softness of movement. 
Pick up the right foot smartly at the end of the last 
measure in which this step is used. 

In character with the Waltz, the above movements are 
made to flow together in execution. But a thorough 
grasp of their sequence must be acquired primarily. 

The turn is used to separate enchainements, in the 
manner of the reverse of the Hesitation Waltz, to which 
it is analogous in structure. 

7. An easy step. 



I 



^ 
\ 
\ 



Itr -If /^ 






• # 



On "3," bend the right knee, at the same time slightly 
raising the left foot from the floor (posterior fourth 
position). On "4," pick up left foot sharply. 

In execution, pivot on supporting foot, to turn in reg- 
ular direction. 





A North American Figure in the "Tango" 
Preparation (i) — After the twist (2) — Finishing with a Dip (3) 



To face page 298 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 299 

As the right foot does its touch-and-turn, indine the 
body away from it; and vice versa. Note same as a 
Tango principle. 

8. The same, to the rear. 



a 



r J 



• 



In this and the preceding figure, "2'' indicates 
the Tango's manner of touching the point to the floor and 
quickly raising the foot, at the same time turning the 
heel out sharply. This (a) bends the knee and (b) 
throws the hip slightly forward. Give reasonable play 
to both tendencies. 

9. A North American figure, used principally by ex- 
hibition dancers. 

3 "i-.Ln^J^ ^^^ 



V^ ^^ . > ^/# </*<» not unui. 



-> 




-> 



V:^ 







n'"'* /' / / 1^ y yqMLJi A^J dJU' 






Start in first position. Advance left foot to fourth 
position, stamp ( i ) ; advance right foot to fourth posi- 



300 THE DANCE 

tion, keeping it in the air (2) ; a rond de jambe half- 
turn, very fast, pivoting on left foot, to bring right foot 
to anterior fourth position (3); very low dip or kneel 

(4). 

Exhibition dancers frequently adorn the rond de 
jambe with a little circle (from the knee as pivot) de- 
scribed by the foot, executed during and without inter- 
rupting the big sweep. The little movement adds daz- 
zle to the rapidly executed big movement. 

Performed in open position of the couple. The half- 
turn brings them about-face, facing each other in the 
course of turning. (See photographs.) 

10. El Volteo (the Whirl) is the name of a figure of 
which descriptions come from Paris. The mechanism 
of the step is identical with that of the grapevine of the 
One-Step, 

THE BRAZILIAN MAXIXE 

This IS, virtually, a revival of the Two-Step, plus cer- 
tain Tango steps and enchainements. Instead of the 
Tango's touch-and-turn-in of the foot, it employs a de- 
vice of resting the heel on the floor, the foot pointed 
upward, while the body assumes a bent-over posture not 
particularly attractive. 






1^' 






> 









yyt\J^OMJAjL^ 



The First Step. 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 301 

As in other present-day dances, usage requires no set 
sequence of figures. 

1. Execute the first measure with the body somewhat 
supple, and a good deal of rise and sink in the steps. 
The effect may be varied by inclining the body rather 
sinuously from side to side. 

2. A Flying Two-Step: a two-step in which the 
advanced foot points upward, touching the heel to the 
floor — except on turns. Continue as many measures 
without turning as is found interesting; eight are not 
too many. 



Mi^ 



Another Step. 

3. Man's steps: Starting in first position, advance 
right foot to fourth position ( i ) ; glide left foot to 
second position (2) ; glide right foot to posterior third 
position (3) ; carry left foot to posterior fourth posi- 
tion, pause en attitude, and, plant it, transferring weight 
to it and raising right (advanced) foot, point down (4). 

Woman's steps: Advance left foot to posterior 
fourth position ( i ) ; glide right foot to second position 
(2) ; glide left foot to posterior third position (3) ; plant 
right foot in anterior fourth position and raise the left 
foot from the floor (4). During the pause on ''4," 
the woman leans slightly forward. 

Until the third beat, her steps are the converse of the 



302 THE DANCE 

man's. Then, it will be noted, her position becomes the 
same as the man's: each, through a half-beat, is sup- 
ported on the right foot, the left extended back en atti- 
tude. The count of "4'' again finds the couple in con- 
verse positions, the man's right foot being pointed for- 
ward while the woman's is extended back. 

4. An Arch a la Pirouette. Holding his partner's 
right hand in his left hand, the man executes four polka- 
steps forward; while the woman, by means of four 
polka-steps, makes a complete turn toward her left. The 
engaged hands are raised to allow her to pass under 
the arms. 

5. Miscellaneous. The foregoing may be varied with 
slow walking steps, one to each measure ; running steps, 
two to each measure; and polka-steps, with a dip on 
the first beat. 

Owing partly to its facility, the Maxixe is likely to be 
remembered as of the group whose spread over the 
Occident has represented a striking social phenomenon. 
Of the Maxixe, the One-Step, the two Waltzes and the 
Tango, the leap into popularity has been so incredibly 
sudden, and the popularity so far-reaching, that it 
suggests a great, curious story; a story with dances 
and nations as characters; a story whose capacity for 
surprises is so well proven that all the world keeps ask- 
ing itself, "What next?" 

That the tendency is not in the direction of the gro- 
tesque is evidenced in the history of the Turkey Trot. 

So far the layman may read for himself. For more 
definite opinion, we turn to those who, by intimate as- 
sociation with the art in the capacity of teachers and 
performers, are situated to observe the attitude of the 
public toward the art ; and who also, by virtue of a broad 





The "Brazilian Maxixe" 
Characteristic style (i) — A Dip (2) — Variations (3, 4) 



To face page 302 





The "Brazilian Maxixe" 

Preparation for a turn (i) — Finish of a turn (2) — Characteristic style (3) —A 

Dip (4) 



To face page 303 



SOCIAL DANCING OF TO-DAY 303 

knowledge of dancing, are capable of relating their 
observations to choreographic geography and history. 
Madame Pavlowa, of the world; Mr. Anderson, now 
of America; and Miss Nellie Chaplin of London, have 
committed themselves definitely as to future probabili- 
ties ; and with their opinion authorities generally are in 
full agreement. To the effect that: 

The dances of the seventeenth-century courts are the 
objective toward which present-day steps are moving 
directly. They are a part of the curriculum of Miss 
Chaplin's famous London school. A Gavotte Direc- 
toire presented by Madame Pavlowa, one of her most 
popular numbers, seems the very spirit of modernism. 
She expresses the belief that the Russian Gavotte, in 
which is preserved the courtly spirit, is destined to wide 
acceptance. Mr. Anderson demonstrates points of step 
and style that link together most convincingly the old 
and the new. Familiarity with the court dances is the 
dominant influence in his treatment of the dances of to- 
day; and the significant part of it is that the essential 
modernism of his manner, in steps rapid or slow, lies 
in a poise which, until yesterday, was supposed to be 
old-fashioned. 



CHAPTER XIV 
A layman's estimate of conditions 

THAT great dancing is a useful and desirable ad- 
dition to human happiness needs no argument. 
Its power to delight the vision and expand the 
imagination ; its value as an example and incentive to an 
exercise unsurpassed as an ally of health — these and 
other virtues are obvious. More completely, perhaps, 
than any of its tributary arts, dancing has the power to 
impart that indefinable mental well-being that great 
art aims to give its auditor or spectator. As music is 
refreshment for one, pictures for another, so the con- 
templation of dancing is the means of ordering and en- 
ergising the mind of a third. We of the United States 
are a beauty-loving people in the main, and almost 
unanimously attuned to the message of action — so long 
as we understand its meaning. Once really established 
among such a people, dancing would take a position of 
importance second to no other source of national in- 
spiration. In the meantime, there are unorganised co- 
horts of us to whom good dancing, like good reading, is 
something of a necessity; and we should like to know 
what we have a right to expect from the near future. 
"The public gets what it wants," is the sophisticated 
comment almost invariably drawn forth by any discus- 
sion along these lines. Which comment exposes its 
own superficiality; the suggestion of the existence of 
any one public, in relation to the arts, is absurd. 

304 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 305 

Patronising dancing there appear, at the very first 
glance, two pubhcs as widely separated as inhabitants 
of different planets; each pubHc possessed of apprecia- 
tions inconceivable to the other, and even contemptible. 
These are the public that applauds the buxom laziness 
which substitutes for dancing in the so-called "amuse- 
ment" known as burlesque, as distinguished from the 
public that responds to the pure beauty of opera ballet 
or well-performed ballet pantomime. 

Between these two extremes is an intermediate pub- 
lic that is the more or less innocent cause of endless 
confusion, and whose good nature is an obstacle to the 
betterment of standards. In the theatre, even when 
the chaff outweighs the wheat, it applauds everything. 
The next day Mr. and Mrs. Intermediate Public advise 
their friends that the production is stupid. Decreasing 
attendance may warn the manager that something is 
lacking: but what? As a criticism, absence is not very 
illuminating. Acts are changed, cablegrams written 
and lines rewritten, this man discharged, a woman 
rushed over from Paris. And when all is said and done, 
the performance perhaps continues to emphasise fea- 
tures that were the cause of bad impressions. For this 
confusion, the audiences are at least equally to blame 
with the manager. They owe it to themselves as well 
as to others to express themselves frankly. 

Exactly what grade of dancing this intermediate pub- 
lic really wants is an unsettled question — and one of 
paramount importance, since it involves a good part 
of the potential support of good things. Managers in- 
fer, each according to his own disposition; and there 
is rarely material for the formation of inferences in 
any way exact. For one reason or another, no under- 



3o6 THE DANCE 

taking serves the purpose of exact experiment; experi- 
ence does not lead to any unavoidable conclusion. A few 
wholly good ballet productions have been given in the 
Untied States during the past few years ; they have not 
been tremendously successful, up to the present, from 
the point of view of profits. The optimist, however, 
counts even small profits a success, in the circum- 
stances. Here is an art that employs a language prac- 
tically unknown to this country; yet it has not failed 
to impress. But the men who risked the money take 
another view of it. They consider that they have had 
a narrow escape from disaster, that the profits are not 
commensurate with the risks, and that they are well out 
of a bad affair. Augustin Daly, at the time of his 
death, was engaged in a course of instructing the public 
in the appreciation of pantomime, expecting to lose 
money on it for two or three consecutive years. But the 
present moment reveals no Augustin Daly among the 
potential managers of dancing in America. Few are 
willing to plant seed for a harvest long deferred. And 
in justice be it added that the equipment and mainte- 
nance of Pygmalion and Galatea or U Enfant Prodigue, 
the vehicles of Mr. Daly's missionary efforts in the in- 
terests of pantomime, would be a small fraction of the 
expenses attaching to a first-class production of any of 
the great mimetic ballets. 

The situation is, in all essentials, the same as that 
through which operatic and orchestral music passed a 
few years ago. Music lovers put their favoured art 
on a substantial basis by means of endowments. Any 
other course in relation to the ballet results in a matter 
of probabilities and possibilities, but not of certainties. 
The present interest in dancing, left to itself, may lead 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 307 

to great things. Or it may lead to nothing at all. The 
renaissance of interest that followed the Kiralfy suc- 
cesses ,in the sixties and seventies was killed by counter- 
feits. The same hostile possibilities exist at present. 

The above-indicated dependence of the dance on its 
ability to show immediate profits is only the first of its 
handicaps. That difficulty would not be light, even 
though every manager viewed conditions clearly and 
fairly, as some of them do. Unfortunately, however, 
there is in the profession a class that has succeeded be- 
cause of, or in spite of, a belief that good taste does not 
exist in America. To prove this, they shape every oc- 
currence into an argument. In gathering "names" for 
the interest of their advertising, they engage a certain 
number of capable artists. If the productions employ- 
ing these artists succeed, the cynical manager will con- 
strue such success as proof of American worship of 
reputation, and its power to blind him to a mess of ac- 
companying mediocrity. If, on the contrary, failure at- 
tend the enterprise, it proves American inability to 
appreciate good work. For the success of a really good 
work of art, these pessimists will find any explanation 
except that of good work duly appreciated. Skilful 
publicity, novelty, a public affectation of good taste, the 
employment of Oriental motifs, any theory, so long as 
it acknowledges no taste superior to their own. These 
are the people who, if Madame Pavlowa's present tour, 
for instance, makes a striking financial success, will in- 
undate the country with pseudo-Russian ballets, per- 
verting everything, unable to see the need of beauty and 
artistry, bringing all dancing into disrepute. 

Let it be clearly understood : these people by no means 
represent the manager's profession. But they are to 



3o8 THE DANCE 

an extent in control of the situation, and the person who 
wants to see dancing is more or less dependent on them 
as the source of supply. In the absence of any endowed 
institution, no ballet can be seen except under commer- 
cial management — and, as noted, commercial manage- 
ment that cannot or will not knowingly invest in an 
enterprise that is going to require time to be understood. 

The manager desirous of staging a work of genuine 
choreographic quality finds himself confronted by a dis- 
couraging scarcity of even semicompetent material for 
his ballet — that is, here in America. To bring a corps 
de ballet from Europe, with guarantees covering a mini- 
mum number of weeks of work, transportation both 
ways, and other proper and just requirements, is com- 
mercially dangerous. No reasonable blame can be at- 
tached to the usual course of engaging such girls as are 
easily available, fitting steps to their limitations, insist- 
ing on the girls and evading the dance, and making 
much of draperies and coloured lights. 

As a direct result of the scarcity of capable ballet 
people, dance-lovers not infrequently lose the services 
of a rare artist. No one artist can give a satisfying 
two-hour public performance of dancing. Saying noth- 
ing of variety as a desideratum in a programme, the 
question of physical endurance enters. To rest the 
premiere between her flights, a corps de ballet is indis- 
pensable. Without the latter, the former is to be com- 
pared to a commander without an army. But the par- 
ticular case illustrates, where general statement only 
explains. 

On the face of things. Miss Lydia Lopoukowa's de- 
termination to take up residence in the United States 
would seem to mean that American dance-lovers might 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 309 

count on her art as a definite acquisition. After her 
season with Mordkin, the young woman accepted a posi- 
tion as premiere of a ballet, as good as can be made from 
native material. A divertissement is composed that 
pleases public and management, and all concerned ex- 
cept the premiere herself. She finds her work circum- 
scribed by the necessity of keeping down to a pitch be- 
yond which the support cannot rise. That the public 
is pleased is not sufficient; with unrestricted self-ex- 
pression, and freedom of flight, she could bring that 
public to a point of enthusiasm. Her art is belittled, 
and she finds herself in a false position. As soon as 
contracts permit, she withdraws her energies from the 
effort to accomplish good in that direction. So, for 
the lack of a competent ballet, the dance-loving portion 
of the population is robbed. As to Miss Lopoukowa, 
she has a taste for and demonstrated ability in the 
drama. Dancing will give her extraordinary distinc- 
tion in plays that admit its union with the dramatic ac- 
tion. But under better conditions, her dancing need 
not have been subordinated to another art. 

At this point a question might justly be raised as to 
whether the interests of the ballet are not being ade- 
quately cared for by some of the great opera companies. 
To such possible question the only answer is negative. 
Nor are the companies chargeable with any neglect or 
shortcoming in not giving their ballet departments the 
relative importance of ballet in European opera organ- 
isations. The task of popularising great music alone 
has been somewhat more than a labour of Hercules. 
Opera as music now has a supporting patronage; to 
change the ballet's relative importance would be dis- 
turbing, in all probability. Moreover, the Metropolitan 



310 THE DANCE 

(if not the others) has done all that is humanly possible 
under present conditions, with the principal result of 
demonstrating that those conditions are to be met by a 
ballet institution, and nothing less. 

At the time of the Metropolitan's organisation, it will 
be remembered, the world's interest in ballet dancing 
was at a lower pitch than it ever had been since the dis- 
solution of the Roman Empire ; that is, about the middle 
of the Victorian period. Had the undertaking been no 
more than that of producing opera in a land already 
friendly to it, it would have been no more than natural 
if the Metropolitan directors had accepted the ballet's 
status as they found it in England. Their task being, 
however, the production of opera in a country almost 
hostile to it, a failure to simplify the problem in every 
possible way would have been bad generalship. 

Not finding itself expected to take rank with the bal- 
lets of other great opera organisations, the Metropoli- 
tan's department of dancing has gone its comfortable 
gait. It has been under the direction of excellent ballet- 
masters; but they become easy-going, especially after 
proving to themselves that girls cannot successfully be 
asked to perform steps for which they lack the founda- 
tion of training. To other mollifying influences is 
added that of a slippery floor in the room dedicated to 
ballet rehearsal ; a room so beautiful and a floor so per- 
fect that to resin it would be a desecration. The dan- 
cers, in fear for the intactness of their bones, walk 
through their numbers as best they can, and ultimately 
perform them in a manner consistent with rehearsals. 

As a step toward relieving the scarcity of ballet peo- 
ple, the Metropolitan founded, about five years ago, a 
ballet school — an enterprise from which, up to the pres- 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 311 

ent, the pupils have rather monopoHsed the material 
profits. The arrangement between management and 
pupil is, in brief, that the pupil shall remain under the 
schoors (free) tuition four years, at the end of which 
period the Opera has an option on her services for three 
years, at a salary of twenty dollars a week, a little more 
or less. If she appears in the corps de ballet during 
her period of study, she is paid proportionately. The 
school work occupies two hours per day, about nine 
months of the year. The atmosphere of both school 
and Opera is wholesome and good ; no fault can be found 
with the arrangement on a basis of fairness; but the 
number of individuals the school has added to the 
Opera's ballet is shockingly small. Every revue, musi- 
cal comedy, and other light musical production includes 
a collection of young women called a ballet; and each 
year of increased general intelligence in dancing mat- 
ters adds to the desirability that these ballets should 
justify the name. The pretty girl, plus coloured lights, 
drapery, and lively cavorting, no longer constitutes a 
perfectly secure grip on public approval (except always 
in burlesque, with which we are not concerned). The 
result is an insatiable demand for girls who can even 
half dance. And that demand, in its turn, is a steady 
drain on the Opera's school. Before she has studied 
two years, a girl can qualify for a position in an outside 
concern — a condition of which she never remains in 
ignorance very long. She thinks it over. Two years 
more work in the school would insure her a position in 
the Opera, at weekly pay no greater than the present 
offer, for a comparatively short season each year. 
Now, if the Metropolitan ballet had great prestige as a 
choreographic organisation — a prestige like that of the 



312 THE DANCE 

Russian ballet, for instance — its more capable members 
would be sought after as teachers. A connection with 
it would confer artistic honour and material profit. Un- 
fortunately, such prestige is one of the elements that are 
lacking. In resume: continuance with the school in- 
sures employment for about half of every year, begin- 
ning at a later time, with the chances of advancement 
almost zero. Whereas, musical comedy and the like 
offer the probability of employment the year round, 
minus the time of rehearsing new productions. Present 
profits are more attractive than the deferred kind; and, 
a consideration by no means unimportant, a pretty face 
and a pleasing manner are reasonable grounds on which 
to hope for a ''part'' Her contract? The young girl 
of the present generation has had her own way about 
everything since the hour of her birth. Experience 
teaches her that the worst penalty reasonably to be ex- 
pected is a harmless reproof, soon ended. And her 
experience is a true guide in this case. As a matter of 
sentiment, no one likes to oppose the wishes of a girl. 
As a matter of business, it would be of doubtful ad- 
vantage for the opera company to take legal steps to 
enjoin its contract-breaking pupils from appearing in 
other concerns. Happenings connected with opera and 
the theatres have a high value in the newspapers; no 
motive is more popular than that of the persecution of 
the poor but beautiful girl; the publicity force of the 
musical comedy employing said girl would busy itself 
creating for her the role of victim. The opera man- 
agement would find difficulty in securing a true and 
therefore comparatively uninteresting public statement 
of its case; indeed, it would be likely to be made to 
appear, in the eyes of the multitude, as a sort of ogre. 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 313 

The Metropolitan school furnishes a complete and 
conclusive test of the possibilities of an opera organisa- 
tion, as such, in the province of dancing. But even 
if the Metropolitan ballet were right now at the high- 
est conceivable pitch of perfection, a radical change of 
policy would be necessary as a preliminary to giving the 
school its proper power to hold its pupils' allegiance. 
That is to say, the opportunity to appear in an occa- 
sional divertissement is not sufficient to hold an ambi- 
tious and capable young man or woman through long 
years of study. In St. Petersburg, the Imperial Opera 
House dedicates two nights a week to mimetic ballet. 
The dancers' art on those occasions is subordinate to 
none. The dance is the thing; and the dancers, ac- 
cording to ability, are given the opportunity to inter- 
pret character and motive. In short, they are given 
the opportunity to express their art as individuals. 

Now, one or another of the American opera com- 
panies might be willing and able to duplicate the above 
conditions — conditions without whose aid no ballet 
reaches a high plane of development. The undertak- 
ing, however, would have at least twice the weight of 
the administration of either ballet or opera alone; it 
would be accompanied, too, by a risk that the twofold 
interest would result in confusing or displeasing a por- 
tion of the music-lovers who constitute opera's support. 
The creation, development and maintenance of stand- 
ards of a great ballet is a combined task and opportunity 
for dance-lovers themselves, and an end to be reached 
through the medium of a ballet institution. It may be 
added that the Russian regime puts music and ballet 
under the charge of two distinct and separate institu- 
tions. 



314 THE DANCE 

Opera companies whose traditions have been formed 
during recent years have naturally felt the force of the 
renaissance of dancing; they have invested their ballets 
with an importance that would have been considered dis- 
proportionate if their formative period had coincided 
with the mid-Victorian period. The Philadelphia-Chi- 
cago company has had a better corps de ballet than could 
logically be expected in view of the limitations of Amer- 
ican material ; credit is due Sr. Luigi Albertieri, the bal- 
let-master. As premiere danseuse the same company 
for some years has had Signorina Rosina Galli, a de- 
lightful little product of la Scala. In 191 3 Sr. Alber- 
tieri took the post of ballet-master of the new Century 
Opera Company, with Miss Albertina Rasch, formerly 
of the Vienna opera, as premiere. The public's readi- 
ness to recognise good work was demonstrated during 
the Century's first presentation of The Jewels of the 
Madonna, After the act in which the Tarantella is 
danced, the audience demanded that Miss Rasch re- 
spond, with the two principal singers, to the curtain- 
calls. 

In Canada, the influence of the times may be noted 
in the Canadian Royal Opera Company's engagement 
of Madame Pavlowa and her company to provide the 
ballet portion of eight performances. Of present in- 
terest in the dance throughout North America, there 
is no manner of doubt. It is perfectly clear that ap- 
preciation of choreographic beauty and discernment of 
skill are rapidly advancing. London has shown its ca- 
pacity to support four great ballet attractions through 
the same season, and that a long one ; the United States 
is influenced by England's taste in entertainment. 
Dancing exhibitions and pageants are now a part of the 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 315 

entertainments of smart society. A masque produced 
by Mrs. Hawkesworth, in one of the private gardens 
of Newport, was of a nature to recall the historic fes- 
tivals of Catherine de Medici. And the nation's taste 
in entertainment is influenced by smart society. All 
signs point to a continued and even growing interest 
in dancing. And it is possible, without other aid or 
guidance than that interest in dancing in general, that 
dancing as a great art, an art of deep emotional in- 
terpretation, will take its proper place in this land. But, 
with the multitude of forces of vulgarity, get-rich-quick 
commercialism, and heedlessness opposed to it, it is 
doubtful. At the present moment, the high art of 
dancing is pleasing, and its emotional message partly 
comprehended. If it were fully comprehended, that 
art would be an indispensable source of refreshment to 
the American mind. Consistently repeated for a few 
years, its idiom would be familiar to a large part of the 
population. The conditions which this chapter has an- 
alysed show, however, that the sufficient and adequate 
repetition of ballet drama is by no means certain. And 
this chapter's motive is to emphasise two things: first, 
if American lovers of dancing wish to insure for them- 
selves the continuous opportunity to see fine representa- 
tions of that art, they must found a ballet, and an acad- 
emy upon which it may depend for its artists; second, 
for such a step no time can be more propitious than the 
present. 

If the vision of an endowed ballet institution in the 
United States seems lacking on the practical side, it is 
not amiss to recall a few facts of American history in 
its relation to music — than whose ambitions of yester- 
day nothing was thought to be less practical. Thirty 



3i6 THE DANCE 

years ago the attitude of the United States (particu- 
larly the West) toward classical music was less indiffer- 
ent than scornful. To confess a liking for orchestral 
or operatic compositions was to brand oneself as queer. 
Anything connected with music or musicians was deemed 
a fair mark for newspaper jokers; and they knew their 
readers. Inevitably, organisations that ventured a tour 
did so at their financial peril. 

Individual singers and performers were protected 
somewhat by their lesser expenses and their prepared- 
ness to render popular ballads; but they too knew well 
the look of empty benches. 

Theodore Thomas pointed out to a group of Chicago 
people that never, under such conditions, would the 
adequate performance of great works be other than at 
rare and uncertain times; that, without fairly frequent 
hearing of those great works, public taste never would 
improve. Obviously, the programmes that Mr. Thomas 
proposed to give, and the manner and frequency with 
which he proposed to give them, brought up the pro- 
phetic vision of considerable money loss ; but the funds 
were subscribed. The result is the Chicago Orchestra: 
a source of unending happiness to lovers of good music, 
just pride to the city, and material benefit in no slight 
degree. Chicago finds itself the place of residence of 
several thousand music students, and a centre of at- 
traction for many more thousands of occasional pil- 
grims to the Orchestra's concerts. Lastly, as though 
to show that idealism is not the idle dissipation that it 
seems, the Orchestra was reported several years ago 
to have reached a basis of self-support. 

The same history has been virtually duplicated in per- 
haps a score of cities, needless to enumerate. Even 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 317 

"practical'' people admit that most of the orchestras so 
endowed, though they may have passed through a pe- 
riod of begging people to accept passes to concerts, are 
now paying their own expenses. The general history 
of the Metropolitan Opera has already been outlined. 
Opera in other cities has gone through much the same 
train of events, slowly changing indifference to in- 
terest, and having now arrived at the stage of inde- 
pendence made possible by a demand that grows stead- 
ily in volume and intelligence. The number of per- 
formances in each city shows a consistent annual 
growth. 

Certainly the taste for dancing of a high class is no 
less worthy of indulgence and cultivation than the taste 
for the sister art of music. If music's dependence upon 
endowment was once more evident than is that of dan- 
cing now, then so much less is the difficulty of financing 
a ballet institution; proportionately less, too, are the 
hazards and delays to be undergone before the institu- 
tion arrives at a paying basis. 

For the organisation and conduct of such an institu- 
tion, the Russian ballet and Academy supplies a model 
that could be followed in most details. American senti- 
ment probably would rebel at so complete a separation 
of children from parents as the Imperial Academy re- 
quires; but a less complete separation would not neces- 
sarily be detrimental to results. For actual technical 
work in dancing, plastic gymnastics, pantomime, music 
and other courses more than a few hours a day would 
be beyond the strength of very young pupils, leaving 
half of each day to attend common school. As the pu- 
pil advances, his hours per day in the academy could 
increase; he could acquire general education after his 



3i8 THE DANCE 

technical education is accomplished with just as good 
results as accompany the present reversal of that se- 
quence. 

The weak spot that appears in the plan is the pos- 
sible interference of parents with the school's discipline. 
The training of a dancer involves hard work and a great 
deal of it. Although the work be demonstrably bene- 
ficial in all ways, the American parents' attitude toward 
that work and the accompanying discipline would be 
the question to be settled. Boys, to be sure, are sent 
sometimes at an early age to military schools, and there 
brought up under a more or less exact regime. But 
public sentiment favours the indulgence of the girl in 
all her wishes. It would be a matter requiring adjust- 
ment, and probably susceptible of adjustment. Far 
greater difficulties have been overcome. 

Against the prevailing tendency to abandon the train- 
ing in order to accept outside engagements, by which 
the Metropolitan Opera School of Ballet has been too 
often victimised, the academy could protect itself by 
requiring each pupil to file a bond as a condition of 
entrance, the amount to be forfeited if the pupil violates 
his agreement. Questions of payment, ranking of per- 
formers, amount of pensions and the like are details 
needless to consider in the general plan. 

Proper equipment would represent a considerable ex- 
penditure: a modern theatre, or the liberal use of one; 
drill halls, music rooms, gymnasium, baths, etc. As 
to instructors, the right kind are available. At the out- 
set, ballet-master and most of the dancers would have 
to be engaged from outside, their number decreasing as 
the school's products reached the proficiency to take 
their places. The employment, at the beginning, of 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 319 

finished dancers, would be of advantage in establish- 
ing standards for students. Scenery, costumes and or- 
chestra are to be had at the cost of thought and money. 
Medical and other expenses, taxes, etc., are minor con- 
siderations. Now to returns. In considering which, 
it is understood that such an undertaking may not make 
expenses at first. But it is not impossible that good 
management should reduce the losing years to a very 
small number. 

Assuming (say) thirty performances in the home 
city during the first year: the prestige of that number 
of performances, kept up to a consistent pitch of ex- 
cellence, would be nation-wide. As a result of that 
prestige, a long tour and several short ones would un- 
doubtedly return an excess over salaries and costs. 
Bear in mind that a commercial undertaking of the sort 
must figure on recouping a heavy initial expense, and 
transportation of a company from Europe and return. 

Special engagements of artists, in groups or individ- 
ually, would net the institution a greater or less part 
of the receipts, according to the terms of individual con- 
tracts. 

Considering conditions as they are, and looking at 
the history of music as a fair analogy, it would be safe 
to assume that local interest in dancing and the mimetic 
ballet would increase steadily after the institution's first 
year, increasing income proportionately. On the other 
side of the account, expenses should begin to decrease 
after the third year. A wardrobe and a stock of scen- 
ery would have been accumulated, their cost reduced 
to upkeep and occasional additions. More important, 
pupils by that time would begin to qualify for the ballet, 
decreasing the pay-roll of European dancers. In eight 



320 THE DANCE 

years, if the institution has been reasonably fortunate, 
it should have a ballet recruited principally from its 
own school. These alumni, of whatever grade, it would 
have at low salaries; salaries at the same time satis- 
factory to the recipients, whose popularity as private 
teachers would be about in ratio to the quality of work 
with which they identified themselves in performances. 
Stated hours of exemption from duties connected with 
the ballet and the school would open the way to such 
extra revenue. The pay of the premiere danseuse of 
rOpera of Paris is small, in relation to the require- 
ments of her position; but teaching and outside per- 
formances are said to yield her a comfortable income. 

Pension payments would represent a loss more ap- 
parent than real, since many pensioners could, with ad- 
justments, serve as teachers and aides in various ca- 
pacities. 

So far as can be learned, the foregoing covers the 
principal elements of expense and possibilities of rev- 
enue. The difficulties would be heavy, but less so than 
those that have been met and overcome. The ballet 
institution, achieved, would be a contribution to the 
fine arts no less glorious than any this country has yet 
received, an organism whose service to broad aesthetic 
cultivation has been equalled by few. 

On the score of both public education and its cor- 
relative, the steady increase of the ballet's earnings, too 
much emphasis cannot be laid on the advantage the 
institution would have in its facilities for repeating 
great works at frequent intervals. We have seen how 
ground gained by the first Russian season in America 
was partly lost, through conditions that made it impos- 
sible to follow up victories. The choreographic idiom 



A LAYMAN'S ESTIMATE 321 

once understood in its fulness, and its public having 
found itself, the changes of fashion in popular taste 
would be powerless to affect the dignified status of the 
art. Under commercial conditions, let the general level 
of taste sag, or appear to sag, and fine expression is no 
more. The thousands who have half learned to love 
the good give it up, and revert to the mediocre; while 
those who are wholly in sympathy with the good say 
nothing, stay away from the theatre, and are supposed, 
by managers, not to exist. Good taste never dies out ; it 
only appears to. The amalgamation of the aristocracy 
of taste that would be effected by the proposed institu- 
tion would, in itself, have a tremendous importance. 
Any basis for computing the potential support for good 
and honest attractions would be of the utmost advan- 
tage to their proprietors. Disclosures of a substantial 
demand would encourage tours of the best in Europe, 
while a reliable measure of the limitations of such de- 
mand would be no less valuable as a warning against 
reckless expense. Certainly it is to the interest of the 
art that good attractions shall be materially profit- 
able. 

As to the thought of any tendency of such an insti- 
tution to take the practice of dancing away from the 
laity, and confine it to paid exhibitions, the effect would 
be to the contrary. It would, however, make for a 
rise of standards. Dancing clubs and pantomime clubs 
that a little fertilisation would bring to light would 
find in a quasi-public ballet an inspiration and a guide; 
and the good to public health and spirits, in the way of 
such clubs alone, would be pronounced. Also, prevalent 
impressions concerning the relationship between clever- 
ness, "individuality" and genuine workmanship would 



322 THE DANCE 

be modified, to the betterment of what is known as the 
American spirit. 

Greek poets found metre for their verses in the tap- 
ping of feet on the floor. Since the days of Gluck and 
Gretry, the ballet has been among the foremost stimuli 
and guides in musical composition. Of late years, the 
Russian ballet's lift to romantic music is a matter of 
almost common knowledge. Is it a ballet that is 
awaited as the inspiration of an American school of 
music? It is not impossible. But that, and a thousand 
other questions, are not for present consideration. The 
present issue is the institution itself. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

LA DANSE GRECQUE ANTIQUE! Maurice Emmanuel. — Traces 
the origin of a number of steps to ancient Greece, by 
analysis of poses of dancing, figures on ceramics, etc. 
Good explanation of ballet steps. (French.) 

A GRAMMAR OF THE ART OF DANCING: Friedrich Albert 
Zorn. — Explains a system of choreographic writing by 
means of symbols to indicate positions and movements. 
By means (partly) of symbols explains ballet steps, also 
several ballroom dances. Exact and complete. (Writ- 
ten in German; translated into English and other 
languages. ) 

l'academie imperiale de musique: Castil-Blaze. — "His- 
toire litteraire, musicale, choreographique, pittoresque, 
morale, critique, facetieuse, politique et galante de ce 
theatre." (From 1645 to 1855.) Contains much history 
and anecdote of Roman Empire and Middle Ages, with 
descriptions of mediaeval ambulatory ballets, etc. 
( French. ) 

LES PENSEEs: /.-/. Rottsseau. — Defends the dance against 
attacks of English. Rare; frequently missing from (sup- 
posedly) complete editions of the author. (French.) 

memoirs et journaux: Pierre de VEstoile. — A collection 
of anecdotes of the court of Henry III. A mine of in- 
formation and gossip in relation to masques, etc., in the 
period described. (French.) 

DES BALLETS ANCIENS ET MODERNES, SELON LES REGLES DU 

theatre: Claude Francois Menestrier. 1682. — Author 
was a Jesuit priest. Book includes extensive list of ballets 
produced in France up to year of its publication. 

3^3 



324 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

ORCHESOGRAPHiE : Thoinet-Arbcau (anagram of Jean Tah- 
ourot). 1589. — Author was Canon of Langres and 
Maitre de Chapelle of Henry III. The first book devoted 
to the dance. Comments on all aspects of dancing in 
France of his time. (French) 

THE CODE OF TERPSICHOTRE. LE CODE COMPLET DE LA DANSE, 

TRAITE HISTORIQUE THEORIQUE ET PRATIQUE DE 

l'aRT DE LA DANSE, DE LA PANTOMIME, DES BALLETS: 

Carlo Blasis. — Of the three books named, the first is in 
English ; its material is more or less repeated in the other 
two, which are in French. A standard for the use of bal- 
let-masters especially. Authoritative on matters pertain- 
ing to ballet technique, questionable on character dances, 
wholly untrustworthy on Spanish. 

LETTRES SUR LA DANSE ET LES BALLETS: M. Noverfe, ballet- 

master of the Duke of Wiirtemburg, I'Opera of Paris, 
and other operas. 1760. — Gassic. Author was the pro- 
phet of and leader to the modern ballet. A broad and 
comprehensive work on art, as well as authoritative on 
stage direction, ballet technique, and history. (French.) 

DE LA SALTATION THEATRALE : M. de VAuluaye. 1790. 

Dancing and pantomime in antiquity. Contains a cata- 
logue (thought by some authorities to be complete) of 
dances of ancient Greece. (French.) 

DANCING AND DANCERS OF TODAY : Caroline and Charles Caf- 
iin. 19 12. — Special attention to biographies of contem- 
porary dancers. (English.) 

LETTRES A SOPHIE SUR LA DANSE: A. Bavon. 1825. — His- 
tory, folk-dances and balls of Middle Ages. A chapter 
is devoted to dancing of Hebrews. (French.) 

LA DiCTiONNAiRE DE LA DANSE: G. Desvat. — Rcccnt. Ex- 
tremely useful. In dictionary form presents wide range 
of information. 

A HISTORY OF DANCING: G. ViiUUer. 1898. — Translated 
from original French into English and Italian. Read- 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 325 

able history of the art from antiquity to latter 19th cen- 
tury ; many descriptions of early ballets and masques are 
quoted from Menestrier, De I'Estoile and others. 

MODERN DANCING AND DANCERS! /. E. Crowford FUfch. 

191 2. — History of ballet in England, biographical- 
analytical sketches of individuals of latter 19th century, 
details of Russian ballet in London. Delightfully writ- 
ten. (English.) 

TRATADO DE BAiLES : Jose Otcro, famous master in Seville. 
19 1 2. — Expression of the spirit of Spanish dancing. 
Much amusing reminiscence. (Spanish.) 

DiCTiONNAiRE DE DANSE ! Charles Compan. 1802. — De- 
tailed instructions in social dances of the period. 
(French.) 

Note. — The above-named works are not arranged in order either of 
chronology or importance. 



INDEX 



Adagio, 95. 

Albert, dancer, 109. 

Albertieri, Luigi, ballet-master ; 
definition ballone, 74; Century 
Opera Company, 314. 

Alegrias, Spanish dance, 134. 

Alexander VI, see Pope. 

Allard, Mile., dancer, 107. 

Allemande, the, court dance, 52. 

Almees, the, tribe of dancers, 210. 

Anacreon, 8. 

Anderson, John Murray, dancer; 
old court dances, 52; modern 
ball-room dances, 272-303. 

Animals, danced representations of, 
19. 

Anisfeldt, Boris, designer stage 
decorations, 264. 

Anne of Austria, 49. 

Antoinette, Marie, 53. 

Arabesque (posture), 78. 

Arabs, dancing of, 196 et. seq. 

Arbeau, Thoinet (anagram of Jehan 
Tabourot), Canon of Langres, 
choreographic historian. Ridicules 
opposition to dancing, 31. Hints 
on deportment, 55. See also 
Church. 

Ariosto, Suppositi, performance in 
Vatican, 44. 

Aristides, 8, 

Aristodemus, dancer as ambassador, 
8. 

Ark of Covenant ; see David. 

Arms, positions of, ballet, 67. See 
also Flamenco, Arabs, 

Artificiality, charge of against bal- 
let, 62, 62,. 

Assemble (step), 69. 

Attitude, 84. 

Awakening of the Soul, dance, 
Egyptian, 210, 211. 

Bacchu-ber, Savoyard observance, 
186. 

Bacon, Francis, composer of 
masques, 48. 

Bakst, Leon ; designer stage decora- 
tions, costumes, choreographer. 



Compared to Noverre, 105. Part 
in Romantic movement, 248. 

Ballet Academy, French National. 
Founded, 49; Influence, 100. 

Ballet Academy, Metropolitan 
Opera, see MetropoHtan Opera. 

Ballet Academy, Russian Imperial, 
see Russian. 

Ballet, Classic, its artistic function, 
60, 61 ; 89-91, 96. See also Ex- 
pression. 

Ballet dancers, effects of scarcity in 
America, 308-312. 

Ballet Theater, American, outline 
for conduct of, 317-322. 

Ballet {le) Comique de la Reine, 
46. 

Ballet technique, ballet steps, 65-97. 

Ballet, Russian, see Russian Ballet. 

Bolm, dancer, 247. 

Ballone, 60, 72>- 

Baltarazini. See Beaujoyeulx. 

Bathyllus, 25 et seq. 

Battement, 71, 72. 

Beaujoyeulx, ballet master, 45. 

Belgium, dances of, 182 et seq. 

Bible, The; references to dancing, 
5. 

Black Crook, The, 231 et. seq. 

Blasis, Carlo, ballet-master, writer 
on dancing, no. 

Bolero, the, Spanish dance, 146, 
148. 

Bolm, Adolf, dancer, 248. 

Bonfanti, Marie, dancer, teacher, 
232. 

Boston, The, social dance ; relation 
to other social dances, 272. Exe- 
cution, 284-288 incl. 

Boston Dip, see Dip. 

Boston Waltz. See Boston. 

Boucher, designed stage decora- 
tions, 104. 

Bourree, la, French dance, 52, 54, 
183. 

Branle, family of dances ; B. du 
Haut Barrois, B. des Lavandicres, 
B. des Ermites, B. des Flam- 
beaux, 55. 



Z27 



328 



INDEX 



Brise (step), JZ- 

Brunelleschi, stage decorations, 44. 
Bulerias, Sr>anish dance, 134. 
Burlesque, 229. 

Cabriole, y2. 

Cachucha, the, Spanish dance, iii, 

140. 
Canadian Royal Opera Company, 

ballet, 314. 
Camargo, dancer, 50 et seq. Place 

in art, 59 et seq. Influence on 

costume, 100. Quality of work, 

107. 
Cafv-Can, The, dance of Mont- 

martre, 229. 
Cansino, Antonio, teacher, 124. 
Cansino, Elisa, dancer, 135. 
Cansino, Eduardo, dancer, observer 

of work of Gipsies, 126, 134. 
Carmencita, dancer, 139. Influence 

in America, 239. 
Carnaval, le, ballet drama, 2(:&. 
Caryatis, dance. Sacred to Diana, 

13. 

Castanets, Spanish use of, 131, 147, 
148, 151, 152. 

Castle, Mr. and Mrs. Vernon, 
dancers, 277. 

Castle Walk, see Castle. ^ 

Caucasus, The, dancing in, 217. 

Cavallazi, Malvina, preface. 

Cecca, stage decorations, 44. 

Ceccetti, E., ballet-master, teacher, 
74, 89. ^ 

Cerezo, teacher, 146. 

Cerito, Fanny, dancer, 118. 

Chaconne, the, court dance, 52, 55. 

Chang ement (step), 69. 

Chaplin, Nellie, reviver of old 
English dances, ^ teacher, 173. 
Opinion concerning ball-room 
dancing of to-day, 303. 

Characteristic dancing, contribution 
to ballet, 53. 

Charles I, King of England, 48. 

Chasse, 68. 

China, dancing in, 224. 

Chirinski-Chichmatoff, Princess, 

dancer ; defines characteristic 
dancing, 193. Russian Court 
Dance, 195. Dancing in the Cau- 
casus, 217. 

Church, the Christian, St. Basil at- 
tributes dancing to angels, Em- 
peror Julian reproved by St. 
Gregory, 30. Canon of Langres 
ridicules opposition to dancing, 



31. Mozarabic mass, St. Isidore, 

32. Abuses complained of, ^Z' 
Anecdote of the Fandango, 141. 
Lerida Cathedral, Seville Cathe- 
dral, 142. Scotland, 167. 

Church, the Christian, relation to 
dancing, see also Pope, 

Cicero, 27. 

Ciociara, the, Italian dance, 162. 

Clayton, Bessie, dancer, 93. 

Cleopatre, ballet drama, 266. 

Cobblers' Dance, the, Swedish, 182. 

Cobra Dance (India), 220. 

Coles, Miss Cowper, reviver of old 
English dances, teacher, 173. 

Collins, Lottie, dancer, 230. 

Columbina, 157. 

Composition (choreographic, gen- 
eral principles, 89, 90, 91. Nov- 
erre's influences, 105. Arabic, 196 
et seq, 204. Fokine (hypotheti- 
cal example), 264. See also Ex- 
pression. 

Contredanse, type of dance, 184. 

Coopers, Munich's dance of, 186. 

Cordax, Ancient Greek dance, 20. 

Corybantes, taught mankind, to 
dance, 7. 

Coppini, Ettore, dancer, ballet- 
master, 22,3. 

Corte, the, figure of Argentine 
Tango, 295. 

Cossack Dance, the, Russian, 190. 

Cou-de-pied, sur le, see Pirouette. 

Counter-time, Spanish use of, 126, 
130. 

Country dance, see Contredanse. 

Coupe, (&. 

C Durante, the, court dance, 52, 56. 

Court Dances, seventeenth century, 
52 et seq. Influence on modern 
ball-room dances, 303. 

Crawford, Margaret, 53, 169. 

Cybele. See Corybantes. 

Czardas, the, Hungarian dance, 190, 
192. 

Daldans, the, SAvedish dance, 182. 

Danse caracteristique, la. See 
characteristic dancing. 

Dauberval, dancer, 108. 

da Vinci, Leonardo, stage decora- 
tions, 44. 

David, danced before Ark of Cove- 
nant, 5. 

de Botta, Bergonzio, ballet masque, 
37 et seq. 

de Medici, Catherine, Place in his- 



INDEX 



329 



tory of ballet, 44; organizer of, 
performer in, grand ballet, 46. 

de Medici, Lorenzo, 45. 

Decoration, analogy to dance, p. 2 
of preface, 96, 97, 98. Arabic, 
196 et seq. Egyptian, 209, 212. 
See also Composition ; Bakst. 

de Stael, Madame, appreciation of 
Tarantella, 160. 

de Valois, Marguerite, 54. 

del Sarto, Andrea, stage decora- 
tions, 44. 

Dervishes (Whirling), 90, 216. See 
also Religions, non-Christian. 

Developpe, 84. 

Diagilew, Sergius, manager, 251, 
252. 

Dieu (le) Bleu, ballet drama, 268. 

Dionysia, dances, sacred to Bac- 
chus, 13. 

Dip: the; of One-Step, 278; of 
Boston, 285, 286, 287. 

Duncan, Isadora, dancer. Source 
of inspiration, 11. Her artistic 
beliefs, 241 et seq.; early career, 
243 et seq. ; influence on ballet, 
246. See also Russian Ballet; 
Expression. 

fiCHAPPE, 70. 

Egypt, Ancient, dancing in, 4. 

Egypt, latter-day, dancing in, 209 
et seq. 

Eggs, Dance of (India), 220. 

Eight, the, figure of One-Step, 279. 

Elevation, defined, 75. 

Elizabeth, Queen of England, 48. 

Ellsler, Fanny, dancer, no et seq. 
In America, 116. Episode lead- 
ing to retirement, 117. ^ Influence, 
228. See also Taglioni. 

Emmeleia, group of ancient Greek 
dances, il. 

Enchainement, defined, its function 
in composition, 61. 

Endymatia, group of ancient Greek 
dances, 11, 12. 

Entrechat, step, used by Camargo, 
60. Execution, 72, 73. Relation 
to ballet costume, 100. Question 
of origin, 146. 

Ethologues, school of pantomimists, 
16. 

Expression, abstract, 60, 61. In 
ballet composition, 89, 90, 91. 
Noverre's ideals, 105. Spanish 
Gipsy, 124 et seq. Sevillanas, 
138, 139. See also Decoration, 



Composition. St. Denis, 221. 
Duncan, 243-246. Bakst, 248, 
249. Russian re-creation of best 
Greek dramatic form, 251. 
Extravaganza, 229. 

Fandango, the, Spanish dance, 141, 
142, 154. 

Fantaisie, Fantasia (Arab), 207. 

Farandole, the, French dance, 183. 

Farruca, the, Spanish dance, 127 et 
seq. 

Fatma, dancer, 199. 

Feet, positions of. Ballet, 66. So- 
cial dancing, 276. 

Feis, Irish festival, 177-179. 

Feu, la Danse de, see Fuller. 

Fight with Shadow. Ancient 
Greek dance, 19. 

Flamenco, type of Spanish dance, 
124 et seq. 

Fling, see Highland Fling. 

Flour Dance, The (Arab), 205. 

Fokine, Mikail, choreographer, 
teacher, dancer, ballet-master, 
246. Heads Romantic move- 
ment, 247. ^ Hypothetical instance 
of composition, 264. 

Folk-dancing, influences upon it. 
Place in dancing, etc., 164 et seq. 
See also Characteristic Dancing. 

Forlana, the, Italian dance, 156 et 
seq. 

Fouette, 75, y6. 

France, folk-dances of, 183 et seq. 

Fuller, Loie, dancer, 235 et seq. 

Gaditanae: see Spanish dancing. 

Gaelic League, the, attitude toward 
dancing, 178. 

Gaillarde, the, court dance, 43, 52, 
55- 

Galeazzo, Duke of Milan. See de 
Botta. 

Gain, Rosina, dancer, 314. 

Gardel, Maximilian, dancer. Re- 
belled against mask, 102. Ex- 
ample of effect of French Revo- 
lution, 108. 

Garrotin, the, Spanish dance, 127, 
134- 

Gautier, Theophile, appreciation of 
Ellsler, no. 

Gavotte, the, court dance, 52, 53. 

Geltzer, Katarina, dancer, 254. 

Genee, Adeline, instance of virtu- 
osity, 84. Influence, 239. 



330 



INDEX 



Genee, Adeline, re-creations of art 
of historic dancers, 59. 

Germany, dancing in, 184. 

Geisha, 225. 

Gigue, the, Italian dance, 43, 162. 
See also Jig. 

Ginsberg, Baron, 252. 

Gipsy, Spanish, type of dancing, 
124. Pantomime, 125, 126. Re- 
lation to Spanish dancing, 128 et 
seq. 

Gitanita, La, dancer, 94 et seq. 

Glazounow, musical composer, 248. 

Glissade, Glisse, 68. 

Gluck, musical composer, 105. 

Grahn, Lucille, dancer, 118. 

Grape-Vine, the, figure of One- 
Step, 278. 

Greece, ancient, dancing in, 6 et 
seq. Present day, 189, 190. 

Grisi, Carlotta, dancer, 118. 

Guimard, Madeleine, Dancer, 107. 

Guerrero, Rosario, dancer, influ- 
ence, 239. 

Guerrero, Rosario, dancer, 139. 

Gustavus III, King of Sweden, in- 
fluence on dancing, 181. 

Greeting, Dance of (Arab), 202. 

Gymnopaedia, group of ancient 
Greek dances, 11, 12. 

Hamadsha, Mohammedan observ- 
ance, 208 et seq. See also Re- 
ligions. 

Handkerchief Dance, The (Arab), 
205. 

Harlequin, 157. 

Hazelius, Dr., 180. 

Hebrews, dancing of, 5, 45. 

Henry IV, King of France, 48. 

Henry VIII, King of England, 48. 

Herodias, daughter of, 5. 

Hesitation Walts, The, social 
dance: place in modern ball- 
room, 272; execution, 289, 290, 
291. 

Highland Fling, the, Scotch dance, 
167 et seq. 

Hill, Thomas, dancer, 175 et seq. 

Hippoclides, 20. 

Historians, their neglect of danc- 
ing, g et seq. 

Holland, dances of, 182 et seq. 

Horace, 27. 

Hormos, dance of ancient Greece, 
7. 

Hornpipe, the Sailor's, character- 
istic dance, 171. 



Hornpipe, the, Irish dance, 174 et 

seq. 
Hula-Hula, The, Hawaiian dance, 

223. 
Hungary, see Slavonic dances. 
Hyporchema, group of ancient 

(jreek dances, 11. 

Iambic, dance, sacred to Mars, 13. 

India, dancing in, 218 et seq. See 
also St. Denis. 

Inns of Court, produced masque, 
48. 

Ireland, dances of, 174 et seq. 

Italian characteristic dances, de- 
tails of costume, 159. 

Israel, children of. See Moses. 

Jaleo, informal accompaniment. 

Spanish dancing, 126. 
Jarrett and Palmer, producers, 231. 
Japan, dancing in, 225 et seq. 
Javillier, dancer, 108. 
Jete, 70, 71. Jete tour, j. en tour- 

nant, 71. 
Jeremiah, Book of, 5. 
Jig, the Irish dance, 174 et seq. 
John the Baptist. See Herodias, 

daughter of. 
Jones, Inigo, stage decoration, 48. 
Jonson, Ben, composer of masques, 

48. 
J Ota aragonesa la, Spanish dance, 

124, 150-152. 
J Ota valenciana, la, Spanish dance, 

153. 
Judges, Book of, 5. 
Julian, Emperor, see Church. 
Jump, effect of length analysed, 86, 

87. 

Kadriljs, the, Swedish dance, 181. 

Karsavina, Tamar, dancer, 248. 

Kiralfy brothers, dancers, produc- 
ers, 232 et seq. 

Kolia, ancient Greek dance, 19. 

Kolo, the, Servian dance, 189. 

Kyasht, Lydia, dancer, facing p. 
247. 

La Gai_, Louise, dancer, definition 
ballone, 74; in Italian dances, 157 
et seq. 

Lac (le) des Cygnes, ballet, 268. 

Lany, dancer, 108. 

Le Brun, Father Pierre, see 
Church. 

Leo X, see Pope. 



INDEX 



331 



Lezginka, dance of the Caucasus, 
217. 

Lou Gue, 37. 

Louis XIII, performer in ballets, 48. 

Louis XIV, see Ballet Academy, 
French National. 

Lind, Jenny, singer, 118. 

Long, Patrick J., dancer, 176. 

Lopoukowa, Lydia, dancer. Basis 
of academic training, 89. Sla- 
vonic dances, 191. Part in Ro- 
mantic movement, 248. Metro- 
politan Opera, 254. Describes 
curriculum Imperial Academy, 
261 et seq; affected by American 
conditions, 308, 309. 

Ludiones, 25. 

Lycurgus, regulations and recom- 
mendations concerning dancing, 
7,8. 

Lyon, Genevieve, dancer, 274. 

Lyon Chasse, the, figure of Hesita- 
tion Walts, 290. 

Maccabees, 5. 

Malaguena (la) y el Torero, Span- 
ish dance, 143, 144. 

Castanets in la Jota. 

Malaguenas las, Spanish dance, 144. 

Managers, influence on dancing: 
Chicago World's Fair, 237; Jar- 
rett and Palmer, The Black 
Crook, etc., 232 et seq. ; imitators, 
233. Sergius Diagilew, 251, 252. 
Public's share in blame for Amer- 
ican conditions, 305. Exceptional 
undesirables, 307. Commercial 
exigencies, 308. 

Manchegas, Spanish dance, 144. 

Mandelkern, Joseph, manager, 248. 

Mary, Queen of Scotland, 169. 

iMascagni, Theodore, dancer, 156. 

Marianas, Spanish dance, 134. 

Mask. Origin, 18 (inference of 
Mme. L. Nelidow), 249. Persist- 
ence, loi, 102. 

Masque, early steps and elaboration, 
36 et seq. 

Mdtelot, the, Dutch dance, 182. 

Mazurka, the, Russian dance, 190, 
192. 

Maxixe, the, Brazilian, social dance : 
place in modern ball-room, 272; 
execution, 300, 301. 

Media Luna, the, {la Demi-lune), 
figure^ of Argentine Tango, 296. 

Memphitic, group of ancient Greek 
dances, 15. 



Menestrier, Father, choreographic 
historian, 29. 

Metropolitan Opera Company. 
Russian ballet, 254. Relation to 
music and dancing, 255, 309-314. 

Military training, dance in, 14, 15. 

Minuet, the, 52. M. du Dauphin, 
M. de la Reine, M. d'Exaudet, M. 
de la Cour, 57. 

Mirror, figure of Minuet, 57. See 
also Bavarian. 

Mohamrned, see Religions, non- 
Christian. 

Monteverde, musical composer, 39. 

Moor : see Spanish dancing, also 
Oriental dancing. 

Morality of dancing, see Church : 
Religions, non-Christian ; Sex ; 
Tango. 

Mordkin, Mikail, dancer. Part in 
Romantic movement, 248. Met- 
ropolitan Opera, 254. 

M or esc a, the, 43. 

Moritas, las, Spanish dance, 134. 

Morra, la, see Tarantella. 

Morris Dances, 172. 

Moses; bids children of Israel 
dance, 5. 

Mourning, choreographic expression 
of, Greeks (ancient), 13. Span- 
ish Gipsies, 126. Arabs, 207. 

Mozarabe, see Church. 

Mozart, musical composer, collab- 
orated with Noverre, ic^. 

Municipal ballets, 6, 8. 

Murray Anderson Turn, the, fig- 
ure of One-Step, 281. 

Music, analogy to, see Expression. 

Nagel, Fred, dancer, 188. 

Nagel, Mrs. Fred, dancer, 188. 

Napoleon (Emperor), ballet in 
Egypt, 109. 

Naturalism, consideration of. See 
Ballet, Classic. 

Nautch Dance (India), 221. 

Nemours, Duke of, Ballet of Gouty, 
49. 

Nicomedes, mother a dancer, 8. 

Nijinski, Waslaw, dancer, 247, 248. 

Noblet, dancer, 109. 

Noverre, M., ballet-master. Re- 
forms in French ballet, 103. Col- 
laboration with Gluck, 105. Bal- 
let compositions, 106. 

Obertass, the, Polish dance, 192. 
Oiseau (le) de Feu, ballet drama, 
268. 



r 



332 



INDEX 



One-step, the, social dance. Direc- 
tions for execution, 277-283 incl. 

Opera, ballet's place in, 118, 119. 
See also Metropolitan Opera. 

Otero, dancer, 139, 239. 

Otero, Jose, teacher, writer on 
Spanish dancing, 124. 

Oriental dancing : distinguished 
from Occidental, 213-215. See 
also St. Denis, Composition. 

Ostrander, H. C, traveller, 208, 217. 

Pas de Cheval, 85. 

Pas de Chat, 85. 

Pas de Basque (step), 74, 75. 

Pas de Bourree (step), 74. 

Passecaille, the, court dance, 52. 

Passepied, the, court dance, 52. 

Pantomime, distinguished from ab- 
stract expression, 62 et seq. 
Noverre, 107. Spanish Gipsy, 
125. Arabic, 200 et seq. Greek, 
249, 250. Rome, 250. Augustin 
Daly's interest in, 306. See also 
Expression. 

Pantalone, Doctor, 157. 

Panaderos, los, Spanish dance, 149. 

Pavane, the, court dance, 43, 56; 
influence on social dancing of to- 
day, 271. 

Pavilion {le) d'Armide, 268. 

Pavlowa, Anna, dancer; academic 
discipline, 89. Instance of vir- 
tuosity, 92. Part in Romantic 
movement, 248. Metropolitan, 
Opera, 254. Expression as to 
tendency of ball-room dancing, 
303. Canadian Royal Opera 
Company, 314. 

Perchtentanz of Salzburg, 184, 185, 
186. 

Philip of Macedon, wife a dancer, 
8. 

Pirouette, defined, 76, 79. Fouette 
P-y T^f 77 f variations, 78. P. sur 
le Cou-de-pied, 79, 80; P. com- 
posies, 81. 

Pito, finger-snapping, accompani- 
ment Spanish dancing, 131. 

Plato, his valuation of dancing, 4, 
7- 

Plie, 75, 76. 

Pique tour, 89. 

Pointe, sur la: in ancient Greece, 
88; erroneous ideas concerning, 
93 ; instances of, barefoot, 93, 94. 

Poland, see Slavonic dances. 

Polka, the, 181. 



Pirouette, 76-81, 83. 

Pope Alexander VI. 

Pope Eugenius IV, 31. 

Pope Leo X, 45. 

Pope Sixtus IV, 45. 

Pope Zacharias, 32. 

Prince Igor, ballet drama, 266. 

Prevost, Frangoise, dancer, 49. 

Public (American) in relation to 

dancing, 229, 232, 233, 269, 304 

et seq. 
Pylades, 25 et seq. 
Pyrrhic, group of ancient Greek 

dances, 15. 

Quadrille, see Contredanse. , 

Raphael, stage decorations, 44. 

Rasch, Albertina, dancer, 314. 

Reel, the, Irish dance, 174 et seq. 

Reel, the, Scotch dance, 170. 

Reel of Tulloch, the, Scotch dance, 
170. 

Releve, 69, 70. 

Religions, non-Christian, Greek, 6 
et seq. 

Religions, non-Christian, relation to 
dancing. Egyptian, 4. Greek, 4, 
II et seq. Roman, 24, 25. Mo- 
hammedan, 196 et seq. Der- 
vishes, 216. Hamadsha, 208 et 
seq. India, 224. 

Rene, King of Provence, z^. 

Renverse, its aesthetic significance, 
61. 

Revolution, French, effect on danc- 
ing, 108. 

Riario, Cardinal, composed ballet, 

.45- 

RicheHeu, Cardinal, composer bal- 
let, 49. 

Rimski-Korsakow, musical com- 
poser, 248. 

Rincce Fadha, the, early Irish 
dance, 177. 

Roger (Sir) de Coverley, the, 
English dance, 177. 

Rome, dance in, 22 et seq. 

Romantic Revolution, the Russian. 
See Russian Ballet. 

Romeo, Angelo, dancer, 80. 

Rond de Jamhe, 81. 

Rose and the Dagger, The, panto- 
mime, 139. 

Russian Ballet, for comparison, see 
also Ballet, Classic. 

Russia, characteristic dances, see 
Slavonic dances. 



INDEX 



333 



Russia, Court Dance of, 195. 

Russian Ballet. One field of its 
new material, 58. Artistic sanity, 
99. Isadora Duncan- influence, 
241-247. Re-creates best of Greek 
drama, 251. Plays in Paris, 252. 
Metropolitan Opera, 254. Mis- 
representative appearances, 255. 
Relation to Imperial Academy, 
257 et seq. Compared with Clas- 
sic, 263. Scope, 266-268. Influ- 
ence on social dancing, 269, 270. 
See also Ballet, Classic. 

Russian (Imperial) Ballet Acade- 
my: favored ward of govern- 
ment, 245; conditions of entrance, 
257, 258; disposal of pupils, 258, 
259 ; curriculum, 259-261 ; care of 
pupils, 262; synopsis of history, 
262, 263. Influence of Roman- 
ticism, 263-266. 



Sailor's Hornpipe, see Hornpipe. 

St. Basil, dance in his Epistle to St. 
Gregory, 30. See also Church. 

St. Carlo Borromeo, canonisation 
of, 35 et seq. 

St. Denis, Ruth, dancer. Influence, 
199. Cobra dance, 220. Her con- 
tribution to art, 221, 222, 223. 

St. Isidore, choreographic composer, 
see Church. 

Salic priests, 24. 

Salle, de, Marie, dancer, 49. 

Sallust, observations, 27. 

Saltarello, the, Italian dance, 43, 
163. 

Samuel, Book of, 5. 

Saraband, the, court dance, 52, 54. 

Saracco-Brignole, Elise, dancer, 
teacher, 156. 

Saracco, George, dancer, ballet- 
master, 2ZZ' 

Serpentine, see Fuller. 

Saturnalia, dances of ancient Rome, 

Scandmavian, dances of, 180 et seq. 
Scissors, the {las Tijeras, les 

Ciseaux), figure of Argentine 

Tango, 295, 296. 
Scheherazade, ballet drama : Voli- 

nine in, 86; in character, 268. 
Scotch Reel, the, see Reel. 
Seguidillas, type of Spanish dance, 

136, 141, 144. 
Seises of Seville, see Church. 
Seville Cathedral, see Church. 



Sevillanas, las, Spanish dance, 136- 
140 incl. Instance of a competi- 
tion, 94. 

Sex, dance in relation to, 8, 24. 
Ellsler and Camargo contrasted, 
no, III, 115. Spanish Classic 
and Flamenco contrasted, 128. 
Chicago World's Fair, 199, 238. 
Arabian Handkerchief Dance, 
20$. One manager's belief, 239. 

Siciliana, the, Italian dance, 43, 163, 

Sikinnis. Ancient Greek dance, 20. 

Simplicity, Greek and Roman com- 
pared, 22 et seq. 

Sixtus IV, see Pope. 

Schuhplatteltanz of Bavaria, 187 et 
seq. 

Shean Treuse, the, Scotch dance, 
171. 

Shiloh, daughters of. See Judges. 

Skansen, the, 180. 

Skraldt, the, Swedish dance, 181. 

Slavonic dances, 190 et seq. 

Socrates, 8. 

Soleares, las, Spanish dance, 152. 

Sophocles, 8. 

Spanish dancing costume, details 
of, 135, 142, 143, 149, 153. 

Spanish dancing, its place in 
history : Carthaginian province, 
Roman entertainment, 121 ; Moor- 
ish influence, 122; Century of 
Gold, 122. 

Spanish — put in Rome. 

Spear, ancient Greek dance of, 19. 

Spectre (le) de la Rose, ballet 
drama, 268. 

Square, the, figure of One- Step, 
279. 

Spilled Meal, dance of, 19. 

Staats, Leo, dancer, ballet-master, 
80. 

Steps, classes of, definition of, 67, 
68. 

Stoige, Otto, see Pirouette. 

Strathspey, the Scotch dance, 171. 

Style, ballet, some elements of, 91, 
92, 93, 96, 97. Russian and Clas- 
sic compared, 263-266. 

Sur la pointe, les pointes, position, 
aesthetic significance, 61. In an- 
cient Greece, 88. 

Sweden, dances of, 180 et seq. 

Sword Dance (Scotch), the, 167. 

Sword Dance (Turkish), 216. 

Sylphide, la, ballet, 116. 

Sylp hides, les, ballet, 268. 

Szolo, the, Hungarian dance, 193. 



334 



INDEX 



Tabourot^ Jehan. See Arbeau. 

Taglioni, Marie, dancer, contributor 
to ballet steps, 58, 112. Refer- 
ence by Thackeray, no. Indi- 
viduality, III. Rivalry with Ells- 
ler, 114 et seq. Performance for 
Queen Victoria, 118. Influence, 
228. 

Tango, the, Spanish dance, 127 et 
seq. 

Tango, The Argentine, social 
dance : history, 271 ; progress 
hampered by its varied execution, 
275; rnoral aspect, 291, 292, 293; 
execution, 294-300. 

Tarantella, the, Italian dance, 158. 

Tcherepnin, musical composer, 248. 

Temps, definition, 67. 

Tencita, dancer, 154. 

Time markers, 17. See also Casta- 
nets, 

Toe-dancing. See pointe, sur. 

Tordion, the, court dance, 52, 54. 

Toreo Espanol, Spanish dance, 155. 

Tour,^ see Pirouette. 

Tourists, dancing for. Tangier, 
etc., 205. Egypt, 210. 

Treaty, Anglo-French concerning 
dancers' contracts, 109. 

Tulloch, see Reel. 

Turkey, dancing in, 216. 

Turkey Trot, The, see One-Step. 

Turn, the, of One-Step, 277. 

Vafva Vadna, the, Swedish dance, 
iSi. 



Vestris, Auguste, dancer, 102. 
Vestris, Gaetan, dancer, teacher, 

102. 
Victoria (Queen) influence on dan- 
cing, 118. 
Vingakersdans, the, Swedish dance, 

182. 
Virginia Reel, the, American dance, 

177. 
Vito, el, Spanish dance, 155. 
Volinine, Alexander; instance of 

virtuosity, 86; academic basis, 89; 

part in Romantic movement, 248. 

Metropolitan Opera, 254. 
Volte, the, court dance, 52. 
Volteo, el, figure of Argentine 

Tango, 300. 



Walk, the {el paseo, le prome- 
nade) figure of Argentine Tango, 
294. 

Walts, the. Probable origin, 75. 
Universality, 183. The Rhein- 
lander Waltz, 188. See also Bos- 
ton; Hesitation Waltz. 

White Faum, The, ballet spectacle, 
233- 

World's Fair, Chicago, 238. 



Zambelli, Carlotta, dancer, y^. 
Zarabanda, the, old Spanish dance, 
122. See also Saraband. 
Zourna, dancer, 199 et seq. 



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